


Give Your Heart a Chance

by TheGirlWhoRemembers



Series: Doesn't Mean You Can't Try (Fairytales of MacGyver) [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Secret Agents/Spies, Angst, Denial, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Is Not Just a River in Egypt, Mac and Jack Bromance, Mac is a Stupid Genius, Matchmaking, Meddling, Oblivious Mac, Romance, Seriously Mac, Slow Build, Team as Family, cinderella retelling, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-22 02:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13754847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWhoRemembers/pseuds/TheGirlWhoRemembers
Summary: Angus MacGyver.Genius. Billionaire. Philanthropist.Definitelynot a playboy.After one too many heartbreaks, Mac’s heart is so guarded that his friends fear he’ll never find the right one. Throw in a couple of coincidences, some meddling, a hard-working, brilliant, beautiful young doctor and you have a modern-day fairytale.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from. I blame writing _The Stone-Hearted Queen_ , the approach of Valentine’s Day (when I was writing this, anyway), Mac’s honestly tragic love life and my running Iron-Dog joke and thus comparing Mac to Tony Stark in _Just My Luck_. Title comes from the song _Cinderella_ from Disney’s 1950 version and the summary is based off the _The Avengers_ quote (‘Genius. Billionaire. Playboy. Philanthropist.’). I also have to give a very special shout-out to Dlwells51, who partly inspired this with a review on _Forgive and Forget_.
> 
> This is, I suppose, a _MacGyver_ take on _Cinderella_ , though it is probably less of a re-write of a fairytale as _The Stone-Hearted Queen_ and not just due to setting. I mean, obviously, Mac is the Prince and Beth is Cinderella, but there’s no evil stepmother or stepsisters and exactly who the Fairy Godmother is _is_ probably up for debate…you’ll see!
> 
> It also borrows a little, tiny bit from _One Thousand and One Nights_ , though there is no execution and Mac has not gone the way of the Sultan, I promise! I think you’ll see what I mean…

**SEPTEMBER 2017**

**STUDIO OF A POPULAR TALK SHOW**

**LA**

* * *

The extremely beautiful, blonde-haired, green-eyed young woman, in a designer dress and heels, smiled at the host, and then stood up and faced the camera.

‘He’s a billionaire, a genius, a philanthropist, a war hero _and_ he looks _really_ yummy in a tux…please welcome _Cosmopolitan_ ’s 2017 Bachelor of the Year, Mr California, the owner of Jackson Industries, Angus MacGyver!’

Backstage, wearing a tux (which was really uncomfortable and clashed with the grease under his nails - metaphorically speaking, there was no grease today), Mac sighed internally and plastered on his best media-engagement smile, then walked out into the bright lights.

_I did not even enter this Bachelor of the Year contest._

_But, apparently, I’m rich and consequently famous enough that I don’t get a say in the matter._

_Seriously._

_It’d be bad PR if I were to refuse to appear or participate in the contest, so, here I am…_

_Honestly, I live in California. I’m still wondering how I beat out all the bachelors in Silicon Valley and Hollywood to even be the California nominee in the first place…_

He gave a jaunty wave to the studio audience, then made his way to the centre of the stage to greet the host and the _Cosmopolitan_ representative.

* * *

**JUNE 2018**

**MACGYVER’S PENTHOUSE**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

‘I’m really happy for you.’

Mac smiled, fond, happy and completely genuinely, and reached out and put an arm around Jack’s shoulders, as the two of them sat by the fire-pit on the large balcony recessed into the side of the Tower, drinking ice-cold beer from Mac’s walking, self-opening Esky.

Jack had been lonely in a way that Mac and the rest of his friends, as much as they loved Jack and he loved them, couldn’t help with.

Honestly, part of Mac had feared that Jack would never develop another special, meaningful connection with a woman after Sarah, a CIA agent whom Jack had worked with in his Delta days and whom he had frequently referred to as his right one, had married.

For a while, it had certainly looked like that.

And then, by sheer and utter coincidence, Jack’s ex-girlfriend’s daughter, the girl who’d been almost his own, had re-entered his life, and thus, so had her mother.

Jack had, eventually, realized that he still had feelings for Diane.

(After some nudging from Riley, slightly _Parent Trap-_ style.)

Maybe, just maybe, one could have more than one right one, as contrary as that sounded.

And now, they’d decided to give it another go.

(Mac was optimistic. Very optimistic.)

(After all, this time, Jack wouldn’t walk out and leave. He’d regretted that, Mac thought, as much as he’d regretted not telling Sarah how he’d felt about her for years, maybe even more. And he wasn’t scared, not anymore, of how much he’d come to mean to Riley, wasn’t scared of becoming a father, and Diane and Riley had managed to impress upon him that he was definitely a good enough man for the two of them.)

Jack grinned back, putting his own arm around the blonde’s shoulders for a moment, before they both let go. The brunette then pointed at the blonde with his beer bottle.

‘Well, now that me and Boze are both coupled up, we gotta find you a woman, brother.’ Jack sipped his beer. ‘It’s real nice to have someone, you know, someone to share your life with, go to sleep next to and wake up to and...’

Mac sighed internally, taking a swig of his own beer.

_I know._

_Once upon a time, I had that._

_Then…well, to put it lightly, it didn’t end well._

_I’m lonely too, in the way that Jack was._

_The way that my friends, my family, as much as I love them, can’t help me with._

_At least once in my life, I’ve thought I’d found the right one. Twice more, I’ve thought that I might have._

_Each time, I was wrong._

_And each time, it really, really hurt._

_I have a high pain tolerance, which I’ve found out the hard way._

_But I have my limits._

_There’s only so much I can take._

Jack noticed the darkening of Mac’s mood, and continued, changing his tone.

‘…Not that there’s anything wrong with bachelorhood; not having to answer to anyone, being able to do whatever you want, whenever you want, free rein at the dessert table, I mean, you _are_ the reigning Bachelor of the Year, after all…’

Mac shook his head, a little smile on his face, clearly grateful for Jack’s attempt to bring some levity into the conversation.

With effort, he matched that attempt, after taking another drink from his beer.

‘Unfortunately, I can’t make brain-bleach; I’d _love_ to erase that photoshoot from my memory…’

* * *

Two days later, Jack Dalton, ex-Delta Force, Jackson Industries’ Head of Security and Mac’s chief personal bodyguard, sat on the brown leather couch in Mac’s living room, worrying about the younger man and staring at the remnants of a cannibalized toaster, a cannibalized DVD player and a cannibalized pogo stick on the coffee table.

It wasn’t unusual for Jack to be worrying about Mac.

Not at all.

In fact, he had been, to some extent, for almost all of their acquaintance. Jack had made it his business (his job, literally) to watch the younger man’s back, after all.

(Sure, their first few weeks of acquaintance had been…well, contentious, but after saving each other’s lives a few times and cultivating some mutual respect, they’d become inseparable. And Jack knew that Mac’s back needed watching – he would run _towards_ bombs or fires and the like, not _away_ – and he’d decided that he should be the one to do it. He’d even signed up for another tour of duty so he could keep watching Mac’s back.)

It also wasn’t unusual for there to be oddities like the toaster, DVD player and pogo stick remains lying around Mac’s penthouse.

(Most of his projects – and all of the possibly dangerous ones - were done in his workshop on one of the R&D floors in the building, but some of them resided in Mac’s apartment.)

(Those were mostly the ‘domestic’ ones or the ones that were ‘just for fun’.)

(Those were usually the weirdest ones.)

Jack had generally heard that lots of rich people were really eccentric, and could get away with it too, since they were, well, rich.

But he was pretty sure that Mac was far crazier and more eccentric than ‘normal’ rich people were.

How many billionaires did half of their penthouse reno by themselves?

(He’d at least been convinced to let a licensed electrician and a licensed plumber check over the wiring and the plumbing…though, apparently, both had been very impressed by his skill at wiring and plumbing.)

How many had a house full of random DIY’d stuff?

(There was a remote-controlled flying scarecrow hanging by the door, a gumball machine-based arcade-style game next to the couch, and a pancake-making toaster on the kitchen counter next to the triple-decker waffle iron. Out on the deck sat Mac’s modified grill, which could cook a side of pastrami in half an hour, but needed supervision when doing so, as it sometimes caught fire.)

Or owned IKEA furniture?

(Mac loved flat-pack furniture. He actually _enjoyed_ assembling it.)

Ate Honey-Nut Cheerios for breakfast?

(Damn Mac and his ludicrously fast metabolism. If Jack did that, he’d be piling on the pounds in no time. Bozer said it was probably because his BFF used his brain so much – apparently, the brain burned a lot of calories – but Jack was pretty sure that Mac’s fondness for running also helped. As did the fact that he was under thirty.)

Or made a hot-tub out of a kiddie pool and a vacuum cleaner, instead of buying a top-of-the-range one and having people install it for him?

(Riley refused to use it, saying that if she wanted to get electrocuted, she’d do it the normal way, but Jack – who’d been a little hesitant too, admittedly – thought that she was really missing out.)

Or had a wardrobe that seriously consisted of mostly identical-except-for-colour chinos and button-down shirts? And a much-beloved, frequently-worn brown leather jacket?

(Jack could respect sticking to your look. He, like Mac, refused Bozer and Riley’s frequent and persistent offers of a makeover – he liked his black T-shirts and rock band T-shirts and dark jeans, thank you very much – but he also couldn’t stand Mac’s fashion sense. He dressed like a grandpa, which was probably because Mac dressed like his grandfather.)

Although, to be fair, Jack thought that Mac would probably be absolutely nuts and really weird even if he wasn’t the 18th richest man in the USA.

He’d certainly thought that the young EOD tech was crazy when they’d first met, and then, he hadn’t known who Mac really was.

(Mac’s grandfather, the founder of Jackson Industries, Harry Jackson, had gone to great lengths to keep his grandson out of the limelight. Great, great lengths. He – and Mac’s parents, at least, before Mac’s mom died and his dad left – had done everything they could to ensure that Mac had as normal a childhood as possible, including raising him in a perfectly normal but admittedly nice house in suburbia in the Hollywood Hills.)

(That had carried over to Mac, who was intensely private, especially when his grandfather had been alive and he’d simply been the heir to Jackson Industries and the family fortune. Nobody in their military unit had known Mac’s true identity. He’d mentioned to Jack a couple of times that his grandfather owned a business which he’d inherit and run one day, but he’d also made it sound like some mom-and-pop operation, not a multi-billion dollar corporation that made just about everything, from household appliances to agricultural machinery to medical equipment, except weapons.)

(Safe to say, when they’d come home for good, and Mac had finally told Jack the truth, he’d been really, really shocked.)

(In fact, at first, he’d thought that Mac was pulling a prank on him.)

(But, once he’d gotten over the shock, Jack had then insisted – quite literally, _insisted_ – on becoming Mac’s chief personal bodyguard, since, Jack knew, he’d need one, and there was no-one else he would rather have watching Mac’s back.)

He sighed, glancing around at the four other people seated around the living room, drinking beer and eating snacks.

Diane, who was sitting right next to Jack, leaning against his shoulder, though they were refraining from any significant PDA, for Riley’s sake.

The young woman herself, who worked in the Cybersecurity division of Jackson Industries, both dealing with the company’s cybersecurity and the cybersecurity of anything they made, was sitting on the other end of the couch, next to her mom.

Riley had once been a black-hat hacker, but after a near-miss with a very dangerous and extremely ruthless hacker organization known as The Collective (she’d done a little digging, thankfully, when they’d first approached her, and discovered that they had a tendency to threaten and harm the loved ones of their ‘recruits’ to get what they wanted) she’d gone more-or-less straight, becoming a freelance IT consultant/tech/white-hat. Still, she kept her toes in the water of the black-hat world, just in case The Collective decided to go after her mom or something like that. When she’d stumbled upon some stuff on industrial espionage at Jackson Industries, she’d contacted Mac’s Head of Security (Riley had a sense of morality, after all, and besides, she’d witnessed first-hand a lot of the good works of the Phoenix Foundation, Jackson Industries’ philanthropic arm) who’d awkwardly and messily turned out to be Jack. Stuff had then gotten quite complicated and nasty (it turned out that Mac’s girlfriend was central to the industrial espionage, which had completely broken Mac’s heart, and of course, there was that tension between her and Jack, but everything was good between them now).

Bozer, Riley’s boyfriend of about two months, and Mac’s BFF who worked in Marketing for JI, was perched on the arm of the couch next to her.

Bozer and Mac had been BFFs since they were eleven and nine respectively. Bozer’s parents worked for Jackson Industries, with Bozer’s dad in Security (he’d been one of Harry Jackson’s bodyguards), and his mom in Legal, plus he had an aunt in Accounting, so Bozer had been one of the few kids at their school who’d known that Mac was the sole heir to JI and really, really rich. Bozer, to his credit, had never breathed a word about that, and had treated Mac perfectly normally. One day, he’d punched Donnie Sandoz, breaking his nose, for beating up Mac, and had been suspended from school for two weeks, during which Mac had gone to the Bozer family’s house and done Bozer’s homework every single day. They’d been best friends ever since.

And Samantha Cage, former SASR 4th Squadron, former CIA and now a part of JI’s Security team, was sitting in the armchair, watching Jack intently in a way that he still found a little disconcerting.

(Cage was an interrogation and behavioural expert. She could hack someone’s brain as easily and as quickly as Riley could hack into a computer.)

Jack sighed out-loud again.

These people (plus Matty and Patricia, who were at the business dinner that Mac was stuck attending with him – Jack wasn’t there as he’d been heavily encouraged by Mac to take the night off, since the dinner was in LA and there’d be plenty of security there, and besides, Jack headed a very competent security team who could definitely keep him safe for the night) were Mac’s friends. Friends who were like family.

They weren’t just Mac’s employees (well, except for Diane, who wasn’t employed by JI) and he and Bozer weren’t just Mac’s tenants either (they lived in apartments the floor below Mac’s, and paid far below market rent – Mac would happily lease some of the other apartments in the Tower, kept for visitors, to his other friends-who-were-family, but Riley, Cage, Matty – JI’s CFO – and Thornton – JI’s CEO – all insisted on having their own places that weren’t in their workplace).

They all worried about him, because there was definitely something to worry about.

Jack sighed again. Diane put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

‘It’s been almost two months since his shrink started encouraging him to get back into the dating pool, but he hasn’t even stuck half a toenail in.’ Jack reached up and put his own hand over Diane’s on his shoulder, glancing at her. ‘And he was genuinely happy for us, like he was with you two…’ He gestured to Bozer and Riley. ‘…but…’

He trailed off, hoping that the others would get it.

Mac had, of course, being Mac, been genuinely happy for them.

But there’d been something sad in his eyes, on his face, in his posture, too.

Something resigned.

As if he was resigned to never finding what Bozer and Riley had found, what Jack and Diane had found again.

As if he’d decided to stop looking, stop trying to form one of those special, meaningful connections.

To be fair to Mac, none of them could really blame him.

Mac had a complicated and painful romantic history. He’d had _terrible_ luck in love.

When he was fourteen, he’d been shot down cold by Darlene Martin, the prettiest girl at his and Bozer’s high school and his chem lab partner in Junior year, on whom he’d had a massive crush. She’d only been nice to him so he’d do all the work in chem class, plus all her homework.

Then, in his Senior year, he and Penny Parker had dated for 26 days. Mac’s first kiss, first date and first girlfriend was still a friend, but they’d realized quite quickly that their feelings for one another were really platonic.

(Penny, Mac and Bozer were still good friends, though they had less time to catch up with one another now. They still liked to laugh about the fact that Penny was Mac and Bozer’s mutual ex-girlfriend.)

Then, he’d spent most of his two years at MIT pining over a fellow student and close friend, Frankie, before suddenly dropping out to join the Army, losing touch with her.

(He and Frankie had gotten back in touch after a chance encounter a couple of years ago in Boston, when Mac had been there for JI business. Jack had encouraged him to see if he and Frankie could be something more than friends now, now that their five-year age gap seemed smaller, since Mac wasn’t a teenager anymore, and that they were both single, but Mac had said that A, she was out of his league – which Jack thought was nonsense, but Mac had argued that he simply didn’t quite get how special Frankie was – and B, that when he’d chosen the Army instead of staying at MIT, his and Frankie’s lives had diverged irrevocably, which he’d said that, in the end, he couldn’t regret.)

After Mac had come home from The Sandbox for good, there’d been a nasty incident at the Korman Challenge (a one-off contest run by the military to create an autonomous med-evac vehicle that’d been open to both government agencies and vetted corporations – like JI – alike) with Allie Winthrop, a CIA engineer.

(Mac had really, really liked her, and he’d thought that she’d really liked him, but then she’d taken advantage of the opportunity and snuck a sneak peek at his drone schematics on his laptop…)

And it got worse.

Mac’s first real girlfriend, Nikki Carpenter, who’d worked in Cybersecurity at JI and whom Mac had genuinely believed was the right one, had then hurt him even more than Allie had.

(Finding out that your girlfriend of two years, your first real girlfriend, ever, was committing large-scale industrial espionage against you really, really hurt…even if she said that she still loved you.)

After Nikki, Mac had been on a handful of dates with a woman he’d met online named Cindy, and then Jack had been convinced that the secretary of that shady, sleazy German guy (Wexler, he was pretty sure his name was) whom Mac had called out in the middle of an important meeting for sexually harassing her had kinda developed a crush on him (Katarina had invited him to look her up if he ever went back to Germany, after all – which Mac, being Mac, had awkwardly responded to with something along the lines of being terrible at plans, but how about planning to make plans?), and he’d had a handful of first dates and one or two second ones after that, but there’d definitely been no special, meaningful connections, though not for lack of trying.

(They all knew that it’d be hard for Mac to find true love. There was the whole fact that he was the 18th richest man in the USA, which had an unfortunate, sad tendency to attract people who wanted him for the wrong reasons, and then the fact that Mac was, to say the least, a unique individual.)

(There was nothing _wrong_ with that, but the mad-science-ing and crazy DIY projects, unusual interests and slight awkwardness _did_ make it a bit harder to find a perfect match.)

And then…last October, Mac had met Zoe Kiruma, a beautiful, brilliant glaciologist and grad student, after getting into a debate with her online over the age of an Arctic ice core.

Unfortunately, before they could even meet in person, she’d died a hero saving 31 of her students during a school shooting.

She and Mac had only known each other for a couple of weeks, but they all knew that they’d had (or, perhaps a little more accurately, were building) one of those special, meaningful connections.

That if she’d lived, there was a very good chance that she could have been the right one.

(Not long after her death, the Zoe Kiruma Memorial Scholarship had been endowed at her university by an ‘anonymous’ donor.)

(And it’d taken six months of counselling before Mac’s therapist thought he was ready to consider dating again.)

(And besides, they could all _see_ it, even if they didn’t have Cage’s skills.)

Still, they all held out hope that complicated, distressing romantic history aside, Mac could still find the right one.

He was still only twenty-seven years old. Definitely still young.

And Jack and Diane had had their share of complications, since Jack had thrown her ex-husband around for throwing her around, then walked out of her and Riley’s lives immediately and refused to answer all calls and texts.

(After a deeply heartfelt apology from Jack, including the admission that he’d walked out on them because he was scared, because he and Riley and Diane were really becoming a proper family - he’d realized that he was the closest thing to a father Riley had ever had, and he didn’t think he was a good enough man for the two of them - and some time getting to know each other again, plus a bit of nudging from Riley and a little encouragement from Mac – Jack had feared screwing it up again, because then he’d lose Riley too - Jack and Diane had fallen in love once more.)

(Not that either of them had ever completely fallen _out_ of love with each other either, everyone else suspected.)

And Riley and Bozer’s relationship, was, in Bozer’s words, worthy of being made into a movie.

It had, to put it lightly, had its hiccups.

When they’d first met, Bozer had flirted aggressively and endlessly with the woman he’d called his ‘future girlfriend’ on their first meeting. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, until Jack had given him the kick up the ass he’d needed to stop letting his hopes about what they could be get in the way of what they were.

After that, he’d apologized and changed his behaviour (with the occasional backslide which Riley didn’t really mind – she knew that Bozer’s heart was in the right place, and he really was trying, and old habits died hard, and he was actually cute when he wasn’t being overly pushy…), they’d settled comfortably into being friends, and Bozer had moved on and dated Leanna Martin.

Then, that had ended (which, to be fair, was probably what was likely to happen when you went long-distance with someone you’d only known for three weeks, during which you’d had your share of relationship drama – those weren’t the best conditions for a relationship to grow), and fast-forward six months, and Bozer and Riley were now two months official.

Cage took a sip of her beer before speaking.

‘Mac’s heart is guarded towards romance.’

(But, Cage knew, Mac would never close off his heart completely. He simply couldn’t, even if he really wanted to.)

(Mac cared, arguably too much, about people in general.)

(It was one of his biggest strengths – if not his biggest; his grandfather had apparently said that his big brain wasn’t much good without the big heart to go with it – and also probably his greatest weakness.)

Jack, Bozer, Riley and Diane all nodded in sad agreement, before Bozer plastered a grin on his face, and stood.

‘Alright, much as I love my BFF, it’s burger time, and nobody’s allowed to be sad during burger time!’

Jack gave a snort, but a little grin appeared on his face anyway, while Riley rolled her eyes and shook her head in a fondly exasperated way, a smile appearing on her face, and Diane gave a soft little smile and head-shake. A little smile appeared on Cage’s face as well, as she took another sip of beer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the Guest who asked about Mac’s eccentricity and girls having problems with it - firstly, I personally feel that it would be very difficult for Mac to fall in mutual love with and have an enduring relationship with someone who didn’t appreciate and understand (on some level) his crazy brain and what it spits out, and secondly, Mac’s crazy genius and what he does as a result is probably one of those traits that is really endearing at first, but eventually will sometimes be annoying (Can you imagine living with someone who won’t leave the household appliances alone, or sometimes does things that cause minor damage to your home or make big messes, or sometimes gets so caught up in a project he becomes pretty useless for anything else and will destroy/modify/consume random things without asking for permission/approval? You want to make toast in the morning, but there’s no toaster because he did something with it in the middle of the night, you have no shampoo because Mac used it for an experiment but forgot to buy more, there’s pancake batter on the ceiling, being in the middle of a date or something like that and he randomly has an Idea…), and thus, we essentially come back to my first point – in terms of initial attraction, I agree with you, his eccentricities won’t make a difference, but something enduring, something for life, requires a lot of appreciation of the crazy and some level of understanding of it (and quite a lot of patience!). This, mind you, is just a personal opinion and the way I write Mac’s romantic endeavours/relationships – I can definitely see why some people would disagree with me, this is simply what I feel, and keep in mind, it’s influenced by being a rather eccentric baby chemist surrounded by other eccentric people (I spend a lot of time with guys who are a bit like Mac – as in read chemistry papers in their spare time, put together two computers to make one, do chemistry in their backyard, build things like lightning guns - trust me, they’re almost all great people, many are very kind and caring, but their eccentricities will get on some people’s nerves).

**NICE BUT NOT FANCY ITALIAN RESTAURANT**

**LA**

* * *

‘You willingly ate something that he cooked? And _enjoyed_ it?’

At their roughly-monthly girls’ night out (or in, depending on their moods), Matty raised a sceptical eyebrow at Diane, who just nodded, an amused, fond little smile on her face.

Riley twirled her fork in her pasta and spoke before taking a bite.

‘French toast was one of the, like, four things that Jack could cook when I was a kid.’ She shrugged, the tone of her smile shifting ever-so-slightly, growing softer. ‘And the cooking lessons we’ve been taking with Bozer have paid off.’

Cage smiled wryly.

‘He’s been upgraded from hopeless to _you-have-much-to-learn-my-young-Padawan?’_

Riley, her mouth full of pasta, nodded, while her mother, less used to Cage and her uncanny skills, did a double-take.

(To be fair, Cage had even nailed the exact words that Bozer had used, which was pretty impressive.)

Matty and Patricia just exchanged a glance, wry, amused and also fond little smiles on their faces, Matty’s smile wider and a bit more like a smirk.

Then, Patricia gave a little nod of recognition and acknowledgement, addressed to a brunette man who looked to be in his mid-fifties, about Riley and Cage’s height, who was waving somewhat awkwardly, who then walked up to their table, followed by a very petite, blonde, blue-eyed woman of about the same age and a slightly taller, though still small, pretty woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties with light brown hair and eyes.

Riley, Cage and Matty all recognized the man; Michael Taylor was an engineer and the Head of the Biomedical Department of JI, and they presumed that the blonde woman was his wife (Cage recalled him mentioning that Caitlyn was a chemistry professor at CalTech at a Phoenix Foundation event the year before), while the young brunette had to be his daughter, judging by the fact that she had Michael’s eyes and nose, but otherwise bore a startling resemblance to the blonde woman.

Michael had worked for JI for his entire career, though he’d largely worked at one of their R&D facilities in West Lafayette (strategically located close to Purdue’s excellent biomedical engineering department) until nine years ago, when he’d been promoted and shifted to the LA HQ in the Tower.

He immediately started talking enthusiastically to Thornton, his wife and daughter looking rather sheepish, the young woman giving an apologetic, slightly awkward half-shrug, while her mother reached out and put a hand on her husband’s arm. Riley, meanwhile, leaned over to explain who Michael was to her mom.

‘We’ve had a breakthrough with the articulation of some of our prostheses joints; we think it’s got incredible potential for…’ He trailed off and looked rueful, glancing around the table. ‘And I’m disturbing something…’ His wife and daughter’s expressions grew wry, yet fond, as he turned back to Thornton. ‘And I don’t think you’re terribly interested in the technicalities anyway…I’ll talk to MacGyver and the rest of senior R&D…later.’

Matty, Cage and Riley exchanged a rather wryly amused look (a substantial portion of JI’s engineers and R&D people – Mac included; he took a very, very personal interest in two parts of his company: the R&D part, and the philanthropic work of the Phoenix Foundation – had a tendency to get so caught up in the tech and the science and the ideas that they lost track of just about everything else), while Diane smiled and addressed the little family.

‘What brings you out tonight? A special occasion?’

Cage hid a little smile behind her glass of wine at that, taking a sip of the delicious Napa Valley red.

It might have been a skill acquired from having dated far too many asshole exes, or maybe it was the product of raising a daughter like Riley, tough-as-nails and intent on proving it and thus with quite a lot of walls, or maybe it was just inborn, but Diane was very perceptive for someone with no training.

Michael’s daughter was the one who spoke.

‘I got back from my MSF deployment on Wednesday, so it’s a welcome-home dinner.’

Diane nodded, very much recognizing that pride and love in Michael and Caitlyn’s eyes. She’d seen it in the mirror plenty of times.

‘Where were you working…?’

She trailed off, gesturing to the young brunette, who looked quite sheepish and awkward as she realized she hadn’t introduced herself.

‘I’m Beth, sorry!’ She paused, something darker and sadder passing across her face for a second that Cage knew that none of them missed, being who they were. ‘And I worked in Syria.’

Her mom shifted a little closer to her, another motion that didn’t go unnoticed, and smiled at the women sitting around the table.

‘We should leave you to our dinner and get our own…’

With a series of goodbyes, _nice-to-meet-yous_ and genuinely warm smiles, plus another relatively-sheepish apology (Michael) and a slightly-awkward little wave (Beth), the Taylors went and sat down for their own dinner at their table on the other side of the restaurant, and conversation turned back to Jack’s no-longer-completely-horrible cooking skills.

* * *

‘…So this improves the flexibility and dexterity of the joints to near-human levels, provided that the nerve grafting succeeds to that particular threshold?’ Beth tilted her head a little to the left, her voice eager and thoughtful. ‘That’s very impressive, but still, the nerve grafts are a major limitation. A lot of patients have likely sustained too much nerve damage for that to be achievable…’

As Cage returned to their table from the bathroom, she walked past the Taylors, who were all enthralled in and fascinated by the conversation they were having about the prosthetic hand that one of JI Biomedical’s R&D teams were working on.

A seed of an idea took root in her brain.

* * *

**JULY 2018**

**R &D FLOOR**

**(THE ONE WITH MAC’S WORKSHOP AND THE BIOMEDICAL LABS)**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

Cage walked out of the elevator and towards Mac’s workshop, passing the biomedical labs as she did so.

Mac had to go to a very important meeting in an hour, which he, despite being an eccentric billionaire, couldn’t go to dressed in his usual chinos and button-down combination, possibly grease-stained, and with grease under his nails or even smudged on his face.

Cage would be going as part of the Security team, but there was really no reason for her to be fetching Mac.

After all, a call or text would suffice.

Well, she _did_ have a reason.

It just wasn’t one that she intended to share.

Outside one of the biomedical labs, she just so happened to bump into Michael.

As Mac said, coincidences were statistically inevitable.

(Even if she had messed with the odds a little.)

They smiled at each other, Michael giving an ever-so-slightly awkward wave.

‘Oh, hello, Cage.’

‘Hello, Michael. How are Beth and Caitlyn?’

He smiled, but there was a very slight undercurrent of worry in there too, intermingled with pride, exactly as Cage had suspected (known).

‘Well, Beth just got a job in CHMC-LA’s ER, and Caitlyn had a paper accepted into _Nature Communications…’_

He trailed off as his phone rang, and with an apologetic look at Cage, he answered. She smiled and nodded in understanding and walked on towards Mac’s workshop.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Cage kept her eyes and ears open and popped down to a particular R&D floor every now and then, and made sure that she walked through the section of the staff canteen popular with the Biomedical R&D staff at a particular time of day reasonably frequently on her way to get her own lunch.

She was as sure as she could be that Matty and Patricia knew what she was up to, and that they tacitly approved.

(They were hard to read, harder to read than practically almost-anyone she’d ever met, Patricia especially.)

She was also sure that Riley suspected.

(She also knew that Diane would have too, if she knew Cage a little better and worked in the Tower.)

She learned a lot in her repeated chance encounters with Michael Taylor and his closest co-workers, friends.

And she learned about Beth.

Michael was, understandably, very proud of his daughter, who was brilliant (cleverer than him and his wife, which was really saying something; she’d gone to college at sixteen and finished pre-med in three years) and had a strong moral compass and a great determination to help people (unsurprising, given her choice of career and decision to serve with MSF straight after her residency). She had a great interest in science of just about all types, was a little crazy like more than half of R&D were, and was patient and kind and sweet, but also stubborn and deceptively fierce, considering her appearance.

(Perfect, Cage thought.)

(Everyone had a type. There were certain characteristics that attracted people to one another. Sometimes, that type would evolve over time, as people changed, but there were some fundamental characteristics that people sought out in a life partner, even if it was harder to see for some than others.)

(Mac was one of those people who had a really, really distinct type. Beautiful, intelligent and spirited, a spitfire of sorts with plenty of mettle, as she suspected his grandfather would have put it, from everything she’d heard about Harry Jackson.)

She smiled to herself as she walked into her own apartment, putting down her handbag on the stone kitchen island.

It was time to start the next phase of her little plan.

* * *

**MACGYVER’S PENTHOUSE**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

After a long (but highly satisfying) day in the labs, Mac walked back up to his penthouse, and was greeted by the sight (and smell, and sound) of Bozer teaching Jack and Riley how to make his amazing chicken enchiladas in the kitchen (‘The key is to use a 1:2:3 blend of three cheeses…’), while Diane, Cage, Patricia and Matty sat in the living room, sipping wine and watching TV, for some reason.

His automatic, popcorn-delivering popcorn-maker, bearing a load of what smelled like salted caramel popcorn, flew past him, landing on Matty’s lap, as he, curious, walked into the living room. She took a handful, then passed the bowl to Cage.

Mac, meanwhile, rested his hands on the back of the couch and watched the show on the TV.

It was a medical drama, and appeared to be set in an extremely busy and under-resourced ER.

Somewhere in the vast and very busy expanses of his mind, largely unnoticed by him, some cogs started to turn.

Cage and Patricia made eye contact as the younger woman passed the older the bowl of popcorn.

A small smile appeared on Patricia’s face, and she inclined her head slightly, in a way that _could_ have simply been thanks for the popcorn.

Cage knew far better; the _well done_ in the JI CEO’s dark eyes was so very obvious to her.

* * *

**MACGYVER’S WORKSHOP**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

Three days later, Mac was pouring over the schematics for JI ventilators and dialysis machines and defibrillators and anaesthesia units, muttering about the impractical immobility of the equipment, about how some of them could possibly be combined into a single unit, about how they were still far too costly, surely production costs could be reduced…

He got up, grabbed a marker and started scribbling on a nearby whiteboard.

* * *

‘I want to make some improvements to essential medical equipment; the main goals right now are increasing mobility while decreasing cost…’

Two days later, Mac detailed the very sparse details of his idea (right now, honestly, it was mostly just a goal) to Michael, who nodded, picking up where Mac was going.

‘You want to bring some doctors in for consult?’ Mac nodded and Michael pursed his lips. ‘Do you know how you’re going to do this?’

Mac rubbed the back of his neck, looking a tiny bit sheepish, and gave a wry, sheepish smile.

‘Honestly, not yet.’

Michael nodded again, an understanding little smile appearing on his own face, before he bit his lip and spoke.

‘If you want to bring some of our usual collaborators on-board, you’re really going to need a solid idea.’ Mac nodded with a sigh, having thought as much. He, unfortunately, was stuck. In order to get something concrete, he probably needed the expertise of a medical professional, which he didn’t have. But in order to get that expertise, he needed something concrete. Michael, however, continued, his expression shifting into an _I-have-an-idea_ look. ‘But…my daughter’s an ER doctor at CHMC-LA. She’d be happy to help…’ His expression grew simultaneously fonder and more wry. ‘…probably in exchange for a sizeable donation of the improved equipment to MSF if you succeed.’

Mac grinned, nodding and pulling a paperclip out of his pocket.

(Said sizeable donation was already a given, of course, had been before he’d started this conversation with Michael.)

‘Sounds like a great deal.’

* * *

‘Nice to meet you, Mr MacGyver.’

The pretty brunette with Michael’s eyes shook his hand, a warm smile on her face, and Mac smiled back.

‘Just MacGyver, please, Dr Taylor. Mr MacGyver was my dad.’

‘Call me Beth.’ She let go of his hand, then glanced at her father, before looking back at him. ‘Dad said that you wanted to make some improvements to hospital equipment?’

He nodded.

‘Yup, the goal is to essentially make a more mobile and cheaper hospital.’

‘Do you know how you’re going to do that?’

There was a definite note of scepticism in her voice, which was completely and utterly unsurprising, but there was a little less of it than he’d expected there to be, which was A, very flattering, and B, he supposed, had to result from her dad telling her quite a bit about him, which was also very flattering.

(He had a lot of respect for Michael; he was a brilliant engineer, a responsible department head and a very good person.)

(His grandfather’s judgement clearly hadn’t lapsed in the slightest in his later days, despite what some people had said.)

She also sounded very curious in a way that made Mac smile.

‘No, but I’ll think of something.’ He picked up a marker from one of the benchtops. ‘With your help.’ He gestured to a whiteboard that he’d cleared especially for the occasion. ‘Could you write up a list of must-haves and would-like-to-haves?’

She nodded with a smile, and took the marker from him and started writing, in surprisingly neat handwriting.

(He supposed that the stereotype that doctors had terrible handwriting couldn’t apply to every doctor.)

As Beth wrote up her lists, Mac and Michael examined the schematics for JI ventilators.

‘If we switch to one of the new carbon nanotubes…’

* * *

‘…Honestly, if you can get an ICU ventilator down to the size and cost of a portable one, that would be revolutionary.’

Mac smiled as he and Beth poured over the two lists she’d written, scribbling down notes onto another whiteboard as they did so.

(They were the only two people in his workshop now; Michael had had to duck out for a department meeting.)

ICU ventilator had been the piece of equipment at the very top of Beth’s must-have list.

(She had written both lists in priority order as well. He got the impression that she was a very organized, orderly type of person.)

It’d been a very productive two hours; kernels of ideas were now beginning to appear in his mind.

His smile grew more confident.

‘I think we can do better than that.’

* * *

In the middle of a most interesting and most productive conversation regarding dialysis, Beth’s phone emitted a loud chiming noise, and she looked up from the schematic they had their heads bent over, an apologetic look on her face.

‘I’m sorry, but I have to go. My shift starts in two hours, and I need to go home, eat dinner and get changed.’ He couldn’t help but be a little disappointed, but of course, her job had to take priority. And it was already very kind of her to volunteer her free time (which must be precious, given her highly-demanding job) to help him. She seemed to read that disappointment on her face, and she seemed a bit disappointed herself, too, and after a slightly-hesitant moment, she continued. ‘I could come back on Friday afternoon, if you want and have time? I could get here by about 3…’

He smiled.

‘Sounds like a plan.’

* * *

**MACGYVER’S PENTHOUSE**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

In an excellent mood after his very productive and honestly enjoyable day, Mac walked into his apartment to find Cage resetting the smoke alarm, a somewhat-frantic Bozer trying to salvage dinner, aided by Riley and ranting about how his getting-old apprentice really still had much to learn, and Jack (who was covered in bits of not-very-recognizable charred food – Mac thought he recognized some bell pepper pieces in there, but it was hard to tell) bickering with Matty, who had her hands on her hips, while Diane helped him remove the bits from his hair.

Patricia was sitting at the kitchen counter, calmly sipping a glass of wine with an amused little smile on her face.

Mac raised an eyebrow, a very wry and amused little grin appearing on his face.

‘Do I want to know?’

* * *

**MACGYVER’S WORKSHOP**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

At 3:09 PM on Friday, Mac walked into his workshop to find Beth standing with her back to him, examining his latest just-for-fun project (it was here in the workshop because there hadn’t quite been space for it in in his apartment), her hands clasped in front of her.

He smiled and leaned against one of the workbenches.

‘Afternoon, Beth.’

She whirled around, eyes widening and looking very sheepish, cheeks pinking slightly.

‘Oh…hi, MacGyver. I…I…I didn’t mean to snoop, I’m sorry, I just…well, it looked fascinating…’ She glanced between the contraption and him as he waved a hand to show that it was fine, because it really was. He absolutely couldn’t begrudge someone for being fascinated by what was a pretty nifty piece of engineering, even if he said so himself. ‘…Is it what I think it is? A spaghetti-machine-spaghetti-machine?’

His smile widened.

‘Yeah.’ He walked over to the start of the machine. ‘Want a demonstration?’

Her eager, broad, almost-childlike smile answered for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game is afoot! And yes, I (kind-of) made Cage the Fairy Godmother in this story (there’s elements of Fairy Godmothering by other people as well), as weird as that probably seems; with her skill-set, I feel that she’d be the one who’d come up with the idea and know how to execute it! Beth’s need to leave at a certain time is also this AU’s version of Cinderella having to leave the Ball before midnight. 
> 
> CHMC-LA is (apparently) the acronym used for California Hospital Medical Centre- Los Angeles, the only hospital with an ER in downtown LA.


	3. Chapter 3

**AUGUST 2018**

**MACGYVER’S WORKSHOP**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

They fell into a routine.

Three times a fortnight (a Tuesday afternoon, a Friday afternoon and a Sunday morning – her shifts were fairly regular; the Tuesday afternoon had been swapped to Wednesday morning once, and the Sunday morning became a Sunday afternoon once), Beth came to Mac’s workshop and they worked very hard on their (to say the least) challenging project.

_I’m definitely an on-the-fly sort of guy._

_I’m really not good with plans._

_But still, there’s something to be said for routines._

_Weekly ‘family’ dinners. A run every morning. Bozer’s Halloween costumes and Cage’s haunted house every year. Riley punching Jack in the arm at least three times a week. Jack being annoying at least twice a day and making at least two Star Wars references per week. Watching Die Hard every Christmas because Jack says it’s the best Christmas movie ever made – well, actually, the best movie ever made, full stop. Bozer’s Christmas pastrami. Patricia out-singing the rest of us – except maybe Diane now – before Christmas dinner. Matty and Jack’s like-clockwork bickering. Bozer making French toast at least once a fortnight, because it’s Riley’s favourite. Getting to spend the entirety of each and every Wednesday in the labs and my workshop, thanks largely to Matty and Thornton._

_Tuesday afternoons. Friday afternoons. Sunday mornings._

* * *

‘How do you like your coffee?’ Mac, a little frustrated (they were stuck and they both knew it), stopped in his pacing, shoving a re-shaped paperclip into his pocket, and spoke. Beth, who was standing in front of one of the whiteboards, making some notes, finished writing the note that she’d been writing, then looked up at him, brow furrowed in a question. He gave a half-shrug and gestured in the general direction of the break room. ‘A coffee break might help.’

She nodded, a wry smile on her face.

‘ _That_ is the best idea you’ve had in the last hour.’ She capped her marker and put it down. ‘And with one and a half sugars and about a tablespoon of milk, please and thank you.’

* * *

(Fifteen minutes, a cup of coffee each, and two funny anecdotes – one about his pancake-making toaster and its tendency to occasionally shoot batter onto the ceiling, one about how a student of her mom’s back at Purdue had dyed the ceiling of a disused lecture theatre blue in a non-faculty approved experiment – later, they perused the whiteboard and got themselves unstuck.)

* * *

Mac, a smudge of grease on his chin, looked up from where he was carefully attaching their first ventilator prototype to the prototype power source using his Swiss Army knife, at Beth, who was perched on a stool, reading an article from _Annual Review of Biomedical Engineering_ on a tablet.

‘I should pay you.’

_With the amount of time and effort she’s put into this already, she definitely would qualify as some kind of consultant._

_And trust me, the last thing I want is to have HR on my back._

The doctor looked up from her reading and shook her head vehemently, then tilted her chin up a little, something fiercely insistent in that gesture, in her eyes.

‘I’m _volunteering_ to do this, Mac. And we already came to an agreement on payment.’ If (or, in their minds – _when -_ they were both very determined to at least make an improvement on current technology) they succeeded, the Phoenix Foundation would be donating 20,000 units to MSF. The very firm look in her eyes softened and she shrugged. ‘Besides, I _enjoy_ doing this.’ At that moment, the ventilator prototype made a high-pitched whining sound and all the lights went out abruptly. Beth’s expression grew very wry as Mac threw his head back and groaned in frustration. ‘Well…most of the time.’

She offered a sympathetic little smile as he looked back at the now non-functional prototype, already assembling a list of potential things that could have gone wrong in his head.

It was a long list.

Beth got up and grabbed a marker, ready to start writing down and checking off all the items on that list as they were tested, while Mac sighed and brushed his hair back into place, getting another smudge of grease onto his forehead.

* * *

**SEPTEMBER 2018**

* * *

‘You named your med-evac drone _Dalton’s Nightmare_?’

Sitting in the corner of his workshop that had been cleaned up and designated the ‘break area’ (on Beth’s insistence), Mac nodded with a wry little smirk on his face as they sipped cups of coffee and ate ‘brain food’ muffins that Bozer had baked.

‘Jack has a bit of a thing about AIs.’ Mac took a sip of his coffee. ‘He claims that Arnie is the only one he trusts.’

Beth’s brow furrowed as she swallowed her mouthful of muffin.

‘But Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics…’

Mac gave a half-chuckle, shaking his head in fond exasperation.

‘Yeah, I know. I’ve tried, trust me. But Jack’s…stubborn.’ Beth, despite hardly actually knowing Jack, though she’d heard quite a lot of stories about him, nodded wryly. ‘When Boze, Riley and I made Sparky…’ Mac’s brow furrowed. ‘Actually, you haven’t met Sparky yet, have you?’

‘The lab assistant robotic AI who has a fear of being replaced by the med-assistant robot that Biomedical is working on?’

(Her dad had many interesting stories about days in the R&D labs that he loved to tell.)

‘Yup. No matter how much we reassure him that their skill-sets really don’t overlap, so he’s not being replaced in the slightest, he’s still scared.’ Mac paused, slightly bemused. ‘Somehow.’

_Sparky is definitely not going to go all Skynet or Ultron on us, don’t worry._

_Still…even taking into account Riley’s incredible programming skills, and the…well, unique…individuals he’s regularly exposed to, the level of personality he’s developed is pretty astonishing._

* * *

‘You look exhausted.’

The moment the concerned words left his mouth, Mac kicked himself internally.

_I’m not the best with social situations, but even I know that that’s a pretty rude thing to say…and not advisable to say to a woman._

_Even if it is A, objectively true, and B, out of concern…_

Beth _did_ look exhausted, skin pale, dark circles under her eyes and lethargic. She was also holding two cups of coffee, one far larger than the other, and was sipping the larger one as she held the other out to him.

She managed a very wry little smile.

‘Trust me, I also feel it.’ She sighed and took another sip of her coffee, as he reached out and took his. ‘I got very little sleep last night.’

‘Nightmare?’

_She spent a year in Syria with MSF. She’s been home less than three months._

_I remember, very well, how I was when I’d been home from Afghanistan for three months._

She glanced over at him and nodded, putting her coffee and handbag down on the ‘break table’.

‘Yes.’ She hesitated for a moment; she knew he’d been in the Army, and putting those pieces together was child’s play, especially given the empathetic, understanding tone in his voice. ‘You have them too?’

It was his turn to nod.

‘Yeah.’ He, too, hesitated for just a moment, before continuing. ‘Was it one of those…detailed…ones or just flashes and impressions? Or both?’

She picked up her coffee cup again, just wrapping her hands around it without taking a sip, just wanting the warmth of holding it, then stared into the distance just over his shoulder and spoke.

‘It was one of those detailed ones. I was back in the hospital, sheltering just after an airstrike, knowing that there were people out there who needed my help…but knowing that I _couldn’t_ help, because the double-tap was on its way…’

He nodded, putting down his coffee cup and grabbing a few paperclips from the bowl that resided on the table, re-shaping them in silence for a moment before speaking.

‘I think feelings of helplessness and guilt have a tendency to make the associated nightmares recur…’ She glanced over at him, a question in her expression, and hands still working furiously, he continued. ‘My training officer and I were on patrol in Afghanistan. There was something wrong with our bomb-disposal robot, so Al told me to fix it while he cleared the last house of the day.’ He swallowed, voice growing a little hoarse. ‘He stepped on a pressure plate and…’ He trailed off and swallowed again, as she looked up at him, something soft and sorry and sympathetic in her eyes. He knew that he really should be comforting her (he didn’t think he was doing a very good job of it), but also couldn’t really help but continue, finish the story. ‘He was about to go on leave to see his daughter’s birth.’

After a moment’s hesitation, she reached out and patted his arm gently in comfort.

‘I’m sorry, Mac.’

‘It was a long time ago.’ His expression grew sheepish. ‘And I’m pretty sure I’m meant to be comforting you, not the other way around.’

‘That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.’ A wry little smile appeared on her face. ‘And I think mutual comforting is perfectly fine.’

He, too, gave a little smile at that, and handed her the paperclip shape he’d been working on. She took it and immediately recognized it, then laughed.

‘You made an _entire peptide hormone_ out of paperclips?’ There was an impressed note in there. She shook her head teasingly. ‘Now you’re just showing off!’

(He’d noticed that she’d noticed his little paperclip habit, and that she seemed curious as to what inspired each one.)

His smile widened, becoming a little bit like a smirk.

‘Oxytocin _is_ a wonderful thing.’

* * *

Mac scrubbed his hands at the sink in the corner of his workshop, trying to get all the grease stains off his hands and out from under his nails.

There was an urgent issue with the company that he had to join Thornton and Matty to deal with, and eccentric billionaire or not, he couldn’t go to that meeting covered in grease.

As he scrubbed, Beth reached into her purse and pulled out a tube of hand lotion, and held it out to him.

He smiled gratefully and towelled off his still-slightly-greasy hands, took the tube of hand lotion and squeezed a healthy dollop of it onto his handkerchief, then used it to wipe the last of the grease from his hands.

‘Thanks, Beth.’ When he was done, he put down the soiled handkerchief and held up his hands. ‘Do I pass inspection?’

Beth, a wry smile on her face, gestured to his face.

‘You have a bit on your left cheek and on your chin…’

He searched for the nearest reflective surface and found it in the stainless-steel front of a repurposed refrigerator, and grabbed his handkerchief again, squeezing another dollop of hand lotion onto it to clean his face, which practically emptied the tube. He shot her an apologetic look.

‘I’ll buy you a new one…’

She waved a hand as if to say that it didn’t matter.

‘I have another three tubes at home.’ She gave a slightly-sheepish half-shrug. ‘It was on special, I stock up when it is.’

* * *

(The next time Beth came to work on their hospital-in-a-box, as Jack had nicknamed what they were working on – it had stuck – there was a brand-new tube waiting for her anyway.)

(He _had_ used it all, and while he did have a bad habit of either using people’s stuff or improving and/or fixing people’s stuff without asking for permission when he was caught up in an idea, he was also – when he wasn’t caught up in an idea – quite aware of that bad habit.)

(Besides, it was a $4 tube of hand lotion and he was a billionaire and she was a friend.)

* * *

**OCTOBER 2018**

* * *

At 5:13 PM on a Tuesday, Mac’s stomach growled loudly as they went over the schematic for their latest (and functional) ten pound ICU-grade ventilator unit (which they estimated would cost just a couple hundred dollars more to produce than previous portable ventilators while having the higher functionality of an ICU unit), making some notes for improvement.

(Despite the fact that this wasn’t the final product, this was going to go to the commercialization team in Biomedical, something which Beth had been very adamant about and he of course ardently supported.)

_Does this mean we’re going to stop working on this project?_

_Of course not._

_She did say that if we could make a portable ICU ventilator, it’d already be revolutionary…but we’ve still got several ideas up our sleeves, and besides, I’m really enjoying this project, and I’m as sure as I can be that she is too._

Beth put down her marker, putting her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes at him.

‘When was the last time you ate, Mac?’

He gave a sheepish grin. His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly again.

‘Uh…this morning at 8?’

(He’d been in the staff canteen getting some lunch after spending his morning in meetings, and had struck up a conversation with Cal from Appliances, and they’d wound up leaving the lunch queue and spent the early afternoon buried deep in the guts of a dishwasher instead, and after that, he and Beth had been busy in his workshop.)

Her eyes narrowed further and she jabbed at the air in front of his chest.

‘ _You know_ that’s not good for you!’ She held her hand out for his marker, a very firm look in her eyes and the tilt of her chin, something fierce and determined that made a very loud and insistent voice in his brain tell him to do as she told. He handed the marker over. ‘We’re getting you some food. _Stat_.’

* * *

 

42 minutes later, they were eating an early-ish dinner of pizza (half pepperoni, half vegetarian) at the ‘break table’.

(Even though the canteen workers would have gone home for the day, there’d be a selection of sandwiches and other snacks in the staff canteen, but Mac had decided to ‘splurge’ and indulge and have a pizza delivered to the Tower instead.)

(‘Splurge’ was mentally in quotation marks, because – for good reason – just about everyone, Jack especially as he was _Jack_ , would scoff at the notion of him ‘splurging’ on pizza delivery.)

Mac reached out and took another slice of pizza, as Beth raised her eyebrows at him, a half-eaten slice of pizza in her hands.

‘You built an Iron-Man suit for your dog when you were thirteen?’

He nodded, his smirk half-sheepish, half-smug.

‘Yup.’ He took a bite of his pizza, chewed and swallowed. ‘Though, he refused to wear it and escaped twenty-two times in three months in order to make that point, and…well, it didn’t exactly go to plan.’ That was putting it lightly; the first test of the suit (minus Archimedes, for safety reasons, as had been the plan all along) had failed quite explosively. He and Bozer had gotten to practice their fire-fighting skills. Mac had had no eyebrows for a while. ‘Boze calls it the Iron-Dog Incident...’

* * *

**MACGYVER’S FAVOURITE RUNNING TRACK**

**LA**

* * *

‘…And man, has she still got it! You should’ve heard her, brother.’ Jack’s grin grew softer, fonder, as he continued to relate his and Diane’s evening at a very popular LA jazz club two nights previous as they ran, Mac obligingly slowing himself down so that Jack could keep pace. Usually, one of his other bodyguards, who could keep up with him at his top speed, ran with him, but sometimes, Jack decided to join him instead, usually when he was feeling particularly chatty and/or wanted some ‘bonding time’ with Mac…or the day after his blood test results had come back and the cholesterol levels were less than ideal. ‘Owner wants her to sing regularly, and…’ Jack’s grin grew into more of a smirk, though his eyes were no less fond. ‘…well, everyone in that club knew I’m the luckiest guy in town.’

Mac smiled, soft and fond and genuinely happy for his friend and surrogate father-figure.

‘If Diane’s okay with it, we should all go see her perform one day.’ He glanced over at Jack, smile widening a little. ‘I’m really happy for you.’

He firmly pushed that sharp pang of sadness and little prickle of jealousy away into a box in his mind.

_Even if I really, really, really want what Jack and Diane have found again, what Bozer and Riley have built…I can’t._

_Not again._

_Not after everything._

_My heart can’t take it._

_Not again._

* * *

**CHEZ DALTON**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

Jack returned to his apartment to find a still-slightly-sleepy Diane wearing a robe over one of his T-shirts and a pair of his boxers, taking the milk out of the fridge.

He grinned at the sight and leaned over the kitchen counter to kiss her, before, in response to her expectant look and a slight gesture of her head, obediently heading into the bathroom for a shower, since he was apparently sweaty and smelly.

As he stepped away from the kitchen, his grin grew teasing, and he crossed his arms, just as teasingly.

‘You know, times like these, I miss being a free man, not having to answer to anyone, being able to do whatever I want, whenever I want, including eating my bacon and eggs while all sweaty and smelly! Besides, I don’t stink that badly…’ To prove his point, he sniffed his left armpit, and made a face. Diane just raised an eyebrow very knowingly at him. ‘Alright…point taken.’

She chuckled as Jack headed for the shower, calling after him, voice just as teasing as his had been.

‘You’re becoming domesticated, Jack Dalton!’

* * *

(He was definitely becoming domesticated.)

(He ate the oatmeal with stewed fruit and absolutely no bacon that Diane had made for him for breakfast.)

(His doctor had recommended that he watch his diet, because his cholesterol levels were starting to edge into _high_ territory.)

(He was sure that Cage would work it out, and then he’d have to somehow convince her – and she _loved_ getting one-up on him, no matter what that calm, polished, professional exterior said – not to tell Mac, Bozer and Riley, because then he’d never, ever hear the end of it.)

(He was _not_ old.)

(He _was_ becoming domesticated.)

(But he didn’t mind.)

(Not in the slightest.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack’s cholesterol levels are going to become another one of my running gags, I just know it…and trust me, this was only the beginning of why tags like Denial Is Not Just a River in Egypt and Mac is a Stupid Genius are relevant to this story! ;) Cal from Appliances is my attempt at adapting Cal from Cartography (a Phoenix employee who was mentioned once and who has a tendency to talk people’s ears off, apparently, to the best of my memory) into this AU – I don’t know why, but I’ve now used Cal from Cartography as a very minor character in a couple of my fics and he’s started developing a personality in my head…


	4. Chapter 4

**NOVEMBER 2018**

**MACGYVER’S PENTHOUSE**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

On a very particular day in early November, Mac woke up ten minutes before his alarm. He sat up, slowly, a deep (but no longer _aching_ ) sadness flowing through him.

He grabbed a paperclip from the bowl on his nightstand, hands shaping it into an ice-cream cone without him having to think about it, and lost himself in memories (fond memories, though they were now tinged with that sadness) for a while.

When his alarm went off, he reached out to silence it automatically, then took a deep, slightly-shuddering breath, then another, steady one, lifting a hand to wipe the tears away. Then, he looked down at the ice-cream cone paperclip in his hands, a soft little smile on his face, closed his eyes for a second, before placing the re-shaped paperclip into a small container at the back of the drawer in his nightstand.

He got out of bed and went to his closet to grab his running shoes.

* * *

Mac returned from his run to find that his home was a hive of activity.

Patricia, Matty and Cage were setting the table, which already bore a veritable feast of breakfast foods.

Eggs cooked three ways, bacon, Canadian bacon, sausages, grilled tomatoes, hash browns, French toast, pancakes and poppyseed bagels.

Jack walked over from the kitchen, bearing a pot of coffee in one hand, and a jug of orange juice in the other.

In the kitchen, Bozer was preparing waffles using the triple-decker waffle iron, while Riley kept an eye on some berries stewing on the stove, and Diane fed slices of bread to his toast-buttering toaster.

He smiled, and ducked into his room to quickly get changed and apply some deodorant before breakfast.

_I always knew there’d never be a literal white picket fence in my future._

_I’m not a fan of that particular look; it doesn’t serve much purpose as a fence and white’s not a very practical colour for a fence at all._

_I did think, and hope, though, that there’d be a wife and kids and maybe a dog called Archimedes the Second in my future._

_That isn’t going to happen, not now. Not after everything._

_But I will always have a family._

_And they’re the best family anyone could ever ask for._

* * *

As the eight of them sat down around his dining table (it was a tight fit; the dining set was meant for six – Mac made a mental note to make a larger table; he could insert a panel in the middle so that the table could be shrunk down and extended as needed…), Jack raised his mug of coffee, and a silence fell around the table.

‘To Zoe.’

Everyone else raised their cups of coffee or glasses of orange juice and echoed him.

‘To Zoe.’

After a sombre, respectful moment, conversations about nothing much sprang up, as everyone dug into the breakfast spread.

Mac drizzled some maple syrup over his waffle, cut into it and took a bite, as he, Cage and Riley began to discuss a new machine-learning security program the hacker had written to detect lying and suspicious behaviour.

* * *

After breakfast and the associated clean-up, everyone filtered out, heading to work, but not before giving Mac a hug or a pat on the shoulder, even Patricia, who quietly whispered in his ear that she’d already arranged for him to not be disturbed for any reason, short of something necessitating the evacuation of the Tower, all day.

Jack was, of course, the last one out the door, hanging around, saying he’d help Mac clean up, then confiding in the blonde and Bozer that he was planning on stealing the last of the bacon, which they both knew wasn’t the (main) motivation for him sticking around.

(Jack _really_ loved bacon.)

As Mac put the box of tomato soup that Bozer had made for him (using the Jackson family secret recipe, of course, which Bozer had known from the age of twelve, when Mac’s dad had left and he’d gone and begged Harry Jackson to give him the recipe so he could do something for Mac, to try and help his best friend feel just a little bit better) into the fridge, Jack swallowed the last bit of bacon and put an arm around the younger man’s shoulders.

‘If you wanna talk about it, we’re here, son. I’m here. Whenever you need.’

Mac smiled at him, grateful (oh, so grateful) and _loving_ , and put his own arm around Jack’s shoulders.

He was, by nature, a pretty private person. But family was family, and he’d needed their support, even Jack’s ‘helicopter parenting’, _after._

(After his grandfather’s death; the loss of the only biological family he had left.)

(After he came home for good from The Sandbox.)

(After Nikki.)

(After Zoe.)

He’d talked, and they’d listened, and then talked back, comforted him and helped him as best as they could.

It’d mostly been Jack and Bozer, and Riley, quite frequently. Only twice with Cage (though she’d been particularly helpful, being Cage), and twice with Matty, and very memorably, once with Patricia.

But they’d all been there for him.

_And they always will be._

* * *

**MACGYVER’S WORKSHOP**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

‘Mac…are you alright?’ As they worked on the anaesthesia unit they were trying to add to the ICU ventilator unit they’d finished, Beth spoke hesitatingly, a little awkwardly. ‘I don’t want to pry, but you seem pretty down and, well…we’re friends, so of course, I’m concerned and…’

She trailed off, seemingly kicking herself internally for her awkwardness, and possibly also for the question in the first place.

Mac looked up at her, putting down his Swiss Army knife and picking up a paperclip instead.

He wasn’t sure why (he supposed it might have been because they _were_ friends, and he was comfortable around her, very comfortable), but he swallowed and sat down against the wall of his workshop. A moment later, she sat down next to him, and he spoke.

‘Did you keep up with the US news while you were in Syria?’

Her brow furrowed a little at the apparent non-sequitur, and he could practically see the cogs turning in her head as she tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

‘I skimmed the headlines, but nothing in detail…’

He nodded. That made perfect sense.

A lot of news was very depressing.

Not really something you wanted more of when you had darkness around you, when you were trying to bring light and hope and help to those desperately in need of it.

He swallowed and kept toying with the paperclip in his hands, staring at it, but not really seeing it.

‘Today is the first anniversary of the Columbia University shooting.’ He glanced over at her, saw a flicker of recognition after a moment. There’d been practically no coverage of the anniversary, New York was on the other side of the country, and these events were sadly, tragically, too common in their country, and besides, there’d been very few casualties. He returned to staring at (but not seeing) the bent paperclip. ‘55 weeks ago, I got into a debate with a Columbia University glaciology PhD student named Zoe Kiruma about the age of an Arctic ice core online.’ His voice was hoarse, rough with emotion. Realization, followed by a very, very sad, sorry look appeared on Beth’s face, and she reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Mac took a shuddery breath and continued. ‘We started talking about other things and…’ A very, very tiny smile appeared on his face. ‘…well, I really liked her. She really liked me.’ The ghost of a smile disappeared. ‘And then…’ He swallowed, feeling tears pool in his eyes. ‘She saved 31 of her students, but…’ He swallowed again, voice growing smaller. ‘We never even got to meet in person.’

Beth squeezed his shoulder gently, and after a moment and a slightly-less-shuddery deep breath, he turned to face her.

‘I am so, so, so sorry, Mac.’ She hesitated a moment. ‘I really want to give you a hug. Can I give you a hug?’

That tiny, tiny ghost of a smile reappeared on his face, and he nodded and held his arms out, and she leaned forward and hugged him. He tucked his chin over her shoulder and his smile widened a little.

‘Thanks for the oxytocin boost.’

They let go of each other, and she gave a little smile.

‘Well, it _is_ my favourite peptide hormone.’ His smile widened a little more, and she lifted a shoulder. ‘Do…do you want to tell me more about her? Or do you want to get back to working on the anaesthesia unit? Or eat some chocolate, or ice-cream, or pie, or grilled cheese or any other comfort food of your choice? Or, I don’t know…pull a prank on Jack? Whatever would make you feel at least a little better?’

He couldn’t help but smile a little wider.

‘I already feel more than a little better, Beth.’ He paused, looking into her eyes for a moment. They were the exact same colour as Bozer’s special hot chocolate, he swore. Strange; he’d known her father for years, and they had the exact same colour eyes, and he’d known her for three months, and he’d never noted that consciously. He held up the re-shaped paperclip (it was ice-core-shaped), voice softening, growing wistful and fond. ‘You two would have gotten along like a house on fire…’

* * *

**MACGYVER’S PENTHOUSE**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

The second time that Beth joined them for Friday night ‘family’ dinner, she baked a pumpkin pie and brought it along.

As she, Bozer and Mac dished up the dessert, complete with whipped cream, of course, in the kitchen, Jack stood out on the deck, getting some fresh air and bickering with Matty (he’d lost yet another staring contest to the Hun).

‘…What’s the secret? Special eye-drops? Come on, Matty, throw me a bone here!’

Matty scoffed, rolling her eyes in a way that Jack knew was affectionate (sure, she’d never said that she liked him to his face – unlike Bozer, who had somehow won her over really quickly – but he was sure that Matty really did have a soft spot for him; they were all family, after all), and Jack happened to glance over through the slightly-open glass sliding door at the kitchen.

Beth was jabbing at the air in front of Mac’s chest, her eyes narrowed, declaring that pumpkin pie was delicious, and thus should be a socially-acceptable foodstuff all year round, since he’d apparently pointed out that it was still two weeks before Thanksgiving.

‘Pie is her favourite food, and pumpkin is her favourite kind.’

Jack almost-jumped (he didn’t, thanks to his Delta training), as Cage seemingly suddenly materialized next to him and Matty (she hadn’t; she’d obviously walked over – very quietly - from where she’d been leaning against the deck railing, enjoying the view). The two women exchanged a knowing look as Jack kept watching the scene in the kitchen.

Mac’s hands were raised in supplication, and he was grinning down at the young woman who was poking him in the sternum, assuring her that he was definitely not mocking her choice of dessert (he’d just been teasing and a little curious, of course), and jokingly-begging her not to deny him pie, since that was cruel and unusual punishment.

As Beth tilted her head a little to the left, pretending to consider that, a wry, teasing expression on her face, a sudden and sharp realization hit Jack as he took in the look on the young man he tended to think of as a son’s face, in his eyes, even his posture.

In hindsight, it was so _obvious._

Mac was enjoying his hospital-in-a-box project even more than his usual projects, which was really saying something.

And Jack knew a surprisingly large amount of information about the young doctor he’d only spoken to about a dozen times before she’d joined their dinners (including in passing – in the elevator, or the corridor leading to Mac’s workshop).

And Jack had been dragged to a random pharmacy after some meeting across town so that Mac could buy a tube of feminine-scented hand lotion, a very specific kind, too.

It was also completely obvious to Jack that Mac was completely oblivious to his developing crush.

Given what he’d been through, that, Jack thought, should not be surprising.

It went without saying that he was also completely and utterly oblivious to the fact that said attraction was probably mutual.

(Jack didn’t know Beth well, but he really had a _very_ strong suspicion that it was.)

That, Jack knew, was probably because Mac was _Mac._

(Who, despite – or possibly _because,_ with the whole IQ/EQ thing – being smarter than Einstein and knowing the entire contents of the _Encyclopaedia Britannica_ , wasn’t the best with this stuff and still, sometimes, thought of himself as that skinny, shy, dorky, awkward fourteen-year-old who’d been shot down cold by Darlene Martin.)

* * *

Cage and Riley made eye contact as they all ate Beth’s delicious pumpkin pie in the living room, and in that moment, the hacker knew for sure that Cage had nudged this whole chain of events into motion.

It was absolutely not an accident that she’d taken up watching _Code Black_ and had had it on the TV when Mac had come in that day, just a couple of weeks after their chance encounter with Beth and her parents.

Just as Riley had suspected.

(After all, Cage always had a reason for doing everything she did, even if no-one else knew the reason.)

* * *

**BOZER’S RESIDENCE**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

‘You know something I don’t!’ As they walked into his apartment, Bozer pointed at her, completely certain in his conviction. ‘You gotta tell me, Riley! Spill!’

Actually, Riley thought, she was certain she knew _two_ things that Bozer didn’t.

(She, her mom, Cage, Matty and Patricia had all been aware of Mac’s little – or maybe not so little, not anymore, or, at least not for much longer – crush on his friend/sort-of colleague/kind-of lab-partner-of-sorts/partner-in-semi-mad-science before tonight’s dinner, but she also knew that all the men – Mac included – were completely oblivious.)

(She was pretty sure Jack had caught on by the end of the evening, but Bozer hadn’t yet, and Mac would probably take a while – a very long while – to notice if left to his own devices.)

(And she also knew that Bozer had no idea – and neither did Jack – of the hand that Cage had in all of this.)

She crossed her arms, a teasing little smirk appearing on her face.

‘And why should I tell you, Boze?’

He did his best impression of Mac’s highly-effective and (according to Cage, which meant it had to be true) completely unintentional puppy-dog eyes.

‘Because you love me?’ He affected a little pout as that failed to make her reveal the ‘secret’, and smirked himself. ‘Because then I’ll make you my wonderful, incredible, best-in-the-universe French toast for breakfast, Miss Davis?’ When that failed to persuade her, his smirk grew wicked and he held up his hands and waggled his fingers. ‘Because otherwise I’ll tickle it out of you?’

‘ _Oh, no_ , not the _tickling_.’ Riley’s face was mock-horrified, her tone sarcastic, yet, somehow, also amused and fond, in a teasing sort of way. She shook her head with fond exasperation, and tugged Bozer over to the couch, sitting down sideways and plonking her legs across his lap. ‘Mac has a thing for Beth.’

Bozer stared at her for a moment, processing, before he blinked twice, mouth gaping open like a goldfish’s for a couple of beats, then speaking.

‘How did I not notice that? It’s so _obvious_!’

He looked so put-out, so disappointed in himself, that Riley felt a little sorry for him and leaned over and pecked him on the cheek.

‘Hey, at least you’re not the last one to know. Mac’s still in the dark.’

Bozer sighed, a very long-suffering, fondly exasperated sound.

‘Sometimes I wonder if he really has made any progress since Darlene Martin…’

* * *

**CHRISTMAS DAY 2018**

**MACGYVER’S PENTHOUSE**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

‘Come on, guys, don’t you wanna hear the story behind the Bozer family’s Christmas pastrami?’

As Mac, Jack, Bozer, Riley, Diane, Cage, Matty and Patricia all sat around the dining table (newly extended) of Mac’s apartment, digging into their Christmas feast (complete with Bozer’s traditional pastrami), Bozer almost-pouted as no-one demonstrated any enthusiasm for hearing his story.

Jack pointed at him with his fork.

‘We’ve all heard it before, Boze. You told it last year.’

‘And the year before that.’

‘ _And_ the year before that.’

Bozer looked put-out, and Cage offered him a small smile in apology, while Riley leaned closer to him, putting an arm around his shoulders.

‘I’ve heard it eighteen times, Boze.’ Mac gave a little shrug. ‘It’s a great story, but it _does_ lose something with repetition.’

* * *

Jack shook his head with a fond little grin, wrapped in his brand-new Dallas Cowboys snuggie, as Mac opened the latest of his Christmas presents, a box of metal thingamajigs that nobody except him seemed to recognize.

(They were from Bozer, who’d apparently picked them up at a garage sale.)

You’d think it would be difficult to buy gifts for a billionaire, since he could buy everything he could possibly want, surely.

But Mac was actually the easiest person in this entire group to buy gifts for.

(Cage and Matty were the toughest, and he didn’t have a go-to gift for them, unlike for Patricia, who had a very soft spot for soft-centred, dark Belgian chocolates.)

(He usually just bought Matty some kind of gag-gift – like a hula girl outfit or a pink cowboy hat. Cage’s gift this year was a soccer ball, an inside joke from the first time the two of them had bodyguarded Mac together that only the three of them would get.)

(That soccer ball had been a _pain_ to wrap.)

Paperclips. Duct tape. Household appliances, even if they were broken ones (DVD players and toasters were favourites). Random metal doo-dads from garage sales, thrift stores or junkyards.

All of those things made him grin like a child and light up like a Christmas tree.

Jack was completely convinced that if there was some Eccentric Billionaire contest, Mac would totally win.

The kid was several shades of crazy.

And he wouldn’t have him any other way.

* * *

Mac’s grin widened further as he opened the Christmas present Beth had given him, pulling open the previously carefully-and-neatly-festively-wrapped sturdy, large cardboard box to find the innards of a grandfather clock, six doorknobs, most of an old chandelier and the remote control of what he was pretty sure was a toy car, boat or plane.

According to the card, she’d seen these at a garage sale near her parents’ house and thought of him.

He picked up the grandfather clock’s pendulum and examined it.

_Well, the size of this and the chandelier explains why the box is so large…_

Being rather small, Beth had looked adorably ridiculous (and ridiculously adorable) when she’d walked into his workshop carrying his Christmas present, bags hanging from her arms containing the presents for everyone else, her chin tilted up, pinning the box in place and allowing her to see over it.

She’d also expressly forbidden him from opening her gift early with narrowed eyes and her hands on her hips, though he had given it an experimental shake and heard that tell-tale metallic clanging that suggested (to him, at least) that he would love it.

He put the pendulum back into the box and picked up a doorknob instead.

He hoped that she liked her gift (a mini, light-up Christmas tree – her apartment was apparently optimistically described as ‘cosy’ - that he’d made mostly out of old fairy lights and small metal discs salvaged from – coincidentally enough – an old chandelier) as much as he liked hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, Mac, for a really, really, really smart and very observant guy, you can be really stupid and really blind sometimes… ;) Zoe remains my favourite canon love interest for Mac, which has thus been reflected in this story, and I do feel that she and Beth would get along very well (and they’d probably also become good friends with Frankie if they somehow met and between the three of them, they might well manage to out-science – or even out-MacGyver – Mac…)


	5. Chapter 5

**JANUARY 2019**

**MACGYVER’S WORKSHOP**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

Mac and Beth stared at the prototype in front of them, which was making a noise that was definitely not good, and as the first few sparks began to fly off it, Mac, with his quick reflexes and possibly even quicker wits, kicked over the nearest workbench so that the table top was facing the prototype, grabbed the doctor by the waist and flung them both to the ground, behind the table top, putting himself between her and the prototype that he was quite sure was going to explode without even thinking about it.

The electricity in his workshop cut out (thank God for the safety he’d installed), there was a _boom_ and a wave of heat that really wasn’t that bad, which settled into a steadier, less intense heat as the prototype caught fire, and then the sprinklers in the ceiling turned on.

After a moment of catching their breath, adrenaline still rushing through them, while essentially spooned together with him also half on top of her, they both sat up, and stared at each other for several beats, still breathing hard. Beth’s eyes were wide, and she looked noticeably more shaken than he did, though she, too, calmed quickly and was soon looking over him with calm, caring professionalism, a very doctor-y look, inspecting him for any signs of injury.

(That made him give a fond little smile, despite the situation.)

Then, Beth glanced at where they’d been lying, and made a little movement of her head, then looked up at him.

‘Of course you would…’

She spoke with complete and utter conviction and certainty. There was also admiration in her eyes, as well as a touch of affectionate exasperation.

(Of course she’d noticed _exactly_ what he’d done.)

‘I don’t like seeing people I care about getting hurt.’ A wry look appeared on his face. ‘And boss or not, if you got hurt, your dad would _not_ be happy with me and would _not_ be scared of making that known.’ His smile grew even more wry. ‘Though, apparently, your mom is the one I should be more scared of…’

She giggled and nodded, then peeked around the side of the table, while Mac looked over the top.

By now, they were both quite wet, thanks to the sprinkler system.

‘Well, I guess we now know what _not_ to do?’

Mac, who’d been running a hand through his damp hair, turned to the woman beside him, who had a few tendrils of wet hair that’d escaped her braid plastered to her cheeks (he resisted the odd urge he had to tuck them back behind her ears – that’d be _weird_ ) and a wry little smile on her face, a shrug in her shoulders, and laughed.

‘You know, this reminds me a bit of how I got kicked out of the Boy Scouts.’

Beth stared at him as if he’d just said that the moon was made of cheese and he could prove it.

‘ _You_ got kicked out of the Boy Scouts? _You_?’ She looked incredulous. ‘You always carry a Swiss Army knife. You have never met a problem you couldn’t solve using it, some paperclips, a bit of duct tape and a stick of gum. Sure, you’re no stickler for rules, but how in the world did you get _kicked out of the Boy Scouts_?’

He chuckled again and shook his head.

‘It’s quite the story.’ He smiled at the look on her face, before the smile shifted to something more sheepish yet also a little smug. ‘It all started the day I decided I really wanted a particular Merit Badge, and I had a very specific idea as to how to get it…’

* * *

‘… _that_ is how you got kicked out of the Boy Scouts? _Really_?’

Beth stared incredulously at him and Mac nodded, that rueful-yet-smug look still on his face.

‘Yeah, really.’ His expression grew more sheepish. ‘I got more than kicked out, actually. I’m officially banned from attending any and all Boy Scout events in any capacity.’ He paused, looking a touch more sheepish. ‘And a few years ago, when I tried to make a donation, they sent the check back.’

She stared at him for a few beats, and then covered her mouth with her hands as her shoulders started to shake with uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. Mac, too, started to chuckle, more in response to her reaction than anything else.

Once she’d finally stopped laughing, still trying to catch her breath, Beth, her cheeks flushed from laughter, poked him in the sternum.

‘You, Angus MacGyver, are _ridiculous._ ’

* * *

Michael hurried over to MacGyver’s workshop (there’d apparently been an explosion/fire, and even though one of the Biomedical engineers who’d been first on the scene had said that all looked fine, and that MacGyver had signalled to him that all was fine, he was a worried father and felt that no-one could blame him for that in the slightest), and found his daughter and his (ultimately, technically) boss sopping wet, sitting with their backs against an upturned table in the still-electricity-less lab, laughing their heads off.

They didn’t even notice him.

He walked off again, smiling.

He was of the school of thought regarding engineering that if you didn’t blow something up or have something catch fire every now and then, you weren’t doing it right, and clearly, neither his daughter nor MacGyver had been harmed by the experience.

He’d also _definitely_ taken note of the way that they were looking at each other (he knew his daughter very, very well, of course, and he’d come to know MacGyver reasonably well too over the last few years).

(Michael would have been lying if he said that he hadn’t hoped that his precious, beloved only child would follow in his engineer footsteps, as supportive and proud as he was of her career choice, but he figured that – and he knew he was jumping _way, way_ too far ahead; Caitlyn would definitely tell him that, even if she’d be hopeful herself, when he told her what he’d seen that night – an engineer son-in-law was the next best thing.)

* * *

**VALENTINE’S DAY 2019**

**MACGYVER’S PENTHOUSE**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

On Valentine’s Day, a Thursday, Mac ate the dinner he’d made for one all alone in his penthouse.

Jack and Diane had left that morning for a romantic long-weekend away in Tahoe.

(Mac had, of course, loaned Jack the house he owned there for the occasion. The cabin was very modest, considering his wealth, but it was nicely appointed and perfectly comfortable and had been purchased by his grandfather years and years ago, and his mom had absolutely loved it, so there was absolutely no way he’d knock it down to build a nicer house on the lot. Selling it was, of course, also completely out of the question.)

Bozer was cooking an extremely elaborate dinner for Riley downstairs in his apartment.

Matty was treating it just like any other day and was thus in San Francisco working on a business deal for JI.

Patricia had taken the afternoon off and disappeared to do something that Mac knew no-one else knew for certain what it was.

(He only knew where Patricia had gone and why because of what she’d told him after Zoe had passed away.)

(She’d suffered a similar loss when she was around his age, though it was probably even worse for her in many ways, as they’d been engaged.)

(Though, he suspected Cage knew, being Cage, and Matty surely had to suspect, and he thought Jack had an inkling.)

The day before, Cage had invited all the women over to her place to celebrate Galentine’s Day, and while she hadn’t made any mention of any plans for today, she _had_ told Jack that she wouldn’t be available for any security duties this evening.

(Mac suspected she probably had a date – Cage was a very attractive woman who also wasn’t shy in the slightest; if she wanted a date, she’d get one – though he had no clue with whom.)

(He just knew that they weren’t a JI employee, or even someone she’d met through work – Cage had a firm rule; she didn’t date people she met at work.)

_Okay, okay, I admit it. I’m a little sad and lonely on Valentine’s Day._

_I suppose that doesn’t make an awful lot of sense._

_It’s reasonably arbitrary to declare today a celebration of love and romance. I mean, sure, February 14 th has been St Valentine’s Day since 496, but its roots are in the Ancient Roman fertility festival Lupercalia, which was on February 15th._

_And besides, you could definitely say that today’s become a day marked by commercialism and overpriced roses and overdone marketing campaigns._

_But can you blame me?_

_I’m surrounded by proof that underneath all that, there’s still a heart to be found. That the spirit of the day, the love and the romance, is not dead._

He sighed as he put his plate, fork and glass in the dishwasher.

Even though Bozer had dragged him out on a friend date that morning (he’d made his BFF heart-shaped waffles and they’d gone to an arcade and played a lot of Whack-a-Mole and Skeeball), he wasn’t having a very good Valentine’s Day.

He didn’t even have Beth’s now-every-Friday visit to Jackson Tower (she could only come to work on their hospital-in-a-box every second Friday afternoon, as she had work every other Friday afternoon, but she still came for dinner those Fridays she had to work) to look forward to either.

(A very large number of her colleagues had wanted Valentine’s Day, the day after, and that weekend off, quite understandably.)

(Not having a boyfriend, someone she was seeing or even a date, Beth had volunteered to work extra shifts to cover.)

He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and headed downstairs to his workshop.

Maybe he could make some progress on the hospital-in-a-box, or one of his other projects.

Or maybe he could build a ravioli-making spaghetti-machine.

That’d get a rise out of Bozer (he could already imagine his best friend ranting about how one could _not_ make ravioli properly mechanically; true ravioli had to be made by hand! – and then maybe Mac could try and prove him wrong) and out of Jack (who’d, of course, tease him as he so often did, probably about being a crazy nerd), which would be fun and amusing, and it’d probably amuse or even astonish everyone else, and Beth would definitely like it and be impressed by it…and it’d be fun to make…

* * *

**MACGYVER’S WORKSHOP**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

‘I’m going to have to leave at 5 today, Mac…’

On a Friday afternoon, at 3 PM precisely (she was always very punctual), Beth walked into his workshop, where he was already working on their hospital-in-a-box (which now incorporated an ICU ventilator, an anaesthesia unit and a bedside monitor all in one, though there were still several kinks to work out – the battery life was awful and you couldn’t use more than one at a time and the estimated manufacturing cost was still unacceptably high), and put down her bag.

He looked up, a questioning look on his face and a surge of disappointment coursing through him.

(Sure, she’d originally left at 5 PM on those every-second-Fridays, but it’d been months since that’d happened; now, they worked until 6:30, then went upstairs for ‘family’ dinners…)

She gave an awkward little half-shrug, but there was a bright, slightly-shy smile on her face and a light blush on her cheeks.

‘I have a date.’

* * *

**MACGYVER’S PENTHOUSE**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

5:30 PM that evening found Mac sitting on his couch in front of his laptop, telling himself that it was wrong on many levels to run a background check, using his admittedly relatively-rudimentary skills in that area, on Alex, a med-evac chopper pilot at CHMC-LA.

_I’m not actually very good with computers._

_When other kids my age were learning how to use their computers, I was taking mine apart to try and figure out how it worked._

It was a violation of this Alex’s privacy, and, more importantly, it was also a violation of Beth’s privacy.

He told himself that he only wanted to run the background check because they were friends, and being friends, he was of course concerned for her welfare, and her happiness, and he just really wanted to make sure that this Alex was a really, really good guy, because Beth deserved no less.

He told himself that he was only disappointed that she’d had to leave early because he’d gotten used to their routine (humans liked routine and disliked routines being broken) and, more importantly, because he really enjoyed working with her and spending time with her.

He told himself that he was absolutely not jealous in the slightest, not really. It was, after all, only natural that a very small, unpleasant and selfish part of his brain that he tried very hard to ignore (he didn’t like it) didn’t much like anything or anyone that took her time away from him as a result of enjoying her company.

(He told himself that so effectively that he didn’t consciously realize he was doing it at all.)

Bozer, whistling to himself and carrying a couple of bags of groceries, walked into Mac’s apartment (he had to make a start on prepping dinner) and did a double-take when he saw his BFF there.

‘Bro, what’re you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be mad-science-ing with Beth?’ His expression grew concerned. He’d gotten very fond of the young doctor, they all had, and not just for Mac’s sake; she was good people, very good people. And she made really good pie. ‘Is she okay?’

Mac grabbed a paperclip from the bowl on the coffee table.

‘She’s fine, Boze.’ He started unwinding the paperclip. ‘She just had to go get ready for her date.’

Bozer glanced between his definitely-jealous-not-that-he-would-admit-it-or-even-consciously-realize-it best friend and Mac’s laptop, then dropped the groceries on the kitchen counter and shot the blonde a look and pointed at the laptop.

‘Bro, are you internet-stalking the guy? ‘Cause you know, Riley could do a way better job-‘

‘What? Why would I do that?’

Mac had spoken far too quickly and far too loudly, and the expression on his face was _way_ too incredulous, way too _are you crazy?_

Bozer sighed internally.

Denial was not just a river in Egypt.

As he turned back to the groceries and Mac continued to alter the shape of paperclips, rather broody (or at least rather broody for Mac – he did lost-in-thought a lot, actually _broody_ , not so much), Bozer subtly (well, he thought he was being subtle – he wasn’t – but the important thing was that Mac didn’t notice at all) sent out a text in the group chat.

* * *

**MARCH 2019**

**MACGYVER’S WORKSHOP**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

On a Sunday morning two weeks later, at 8 AM, Mac walked into his workshop, running a hand through his hair.

Beth was supposed to come in at 9 to work on their hospital-in-a-box, despite the fact that she’d had a date (a _third_ date) with Alex the night before.

(They were so close to a breakthrough, they could practically taste it, and Beth was very determined and very hard-working, so she’d insisted.)

_There are…implications…associated with a third date._

(He really, really did not want to think about those _implications_ , for reasons that he was not willing to consider – consciously – at all.)

(So unwilling, in fact, that he didn’t even fully realize the fact that he was unwilling to consider those _implications_.)

The part of him that was not submerged in a river in Egypt and very much aware of the _implications_ couldn’t decide whether it would be better or worse if she texted him to say she had to cancel.

On one hand, the _implications_ of cancelling…on the other hand, as much as he wanted to see her, he didn’t want to see the, well, potential evidence of the _implications_ …

Mac got to work, sitting down on a stool in front of the bench on which the prototype rested.

Keeping his hands busy always helped.

* * *

At 8:58 AM, Beth walked into his workshop, two cups of coffee in hand.

‘Good morning, Mac.’

She handed him one (the one that was black, two sugars) with a smile, and with a grateful smile in return, he took a sip.

‘Morning, Beth.’ He paused for a moment, taking another sip of coffee, then continued. ‘How was your date?’

The part of him that was not currently going for a swim in the world’s longest river (while some sources cited the Amazon, the Nile was commonly regarded as the longest) pointed out that he was either a masochist or far, far, far too curious for his own good. Or possibly both.

That part was, of course, summarily and completely ignored by the rest of him so well that Mac didn’t even notice that it was there.

She bit her lip and turned away to put her handbag down, so he couldn’t see her face.

‘It was…well, the date was perfectly pleasant, but…Alex and I decided that we don’t quite _click_ , so we’ve decided to stop seeing each other.’

The part of him that was floating past the Pyramids really liked that.

The rest of him immediately came up with several perfectly logical explanations for why he was unreasonably (and honestly, somewhat cruelly, much to his chagrin and guilt – what kind of friend was happy that their friend’s attempt at dating, at finding the right one, hadn’t worked out?) happy and relieved about that.

Beth took a couple sips of her coffee and a moment to compose herself before turning back to Mac and their prototype, trying to let go of that guilt she felt, trying not to let it fester.

She had tried, she really, really had tried, as hard as she could, to not draw unfair comparisons and to give her and Alex every chance of forming a meaningful, special connection, but she’d discovered that it was very, very hard to do that when one had feelings for another man.

In hindsight, she really should have turned him down (gently but firmly) when he’d asked her out, but she _did_ find him attractive and interesting (he was a very intelligent CalTech physics/maths graduate who’d flown fighter jets in the Air Force before he’d become a med-evac chopper pilot, he was charming and interesting to talk to, and also happened to be extremely good-looking to boot), and her hospital friends had been (very obviously) encouraging her to say yes in the background when he’d asked, and it had been so long since she’d dated (she hadn’t been on a single date since halfway through the final year of her residency), and pining endlessly was not healthy, and agreeing to one date (or even two or three) with someone who wasn’t already a friend wasn’t a promise or a commitment, and she didn’t have any experience of being in this situation before…but still, she did feel a little guilty.

* * *

**BOZER’S RESIDENCE**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

That very same Sunday morning, Jack made his way across the corridor to Bozer’s for brunch (Riley and Diane were having a mother-daughter day).

He plonked himself down on a bar stool at the breakfast bar, and dug into the huevos rancheros that Bozer set down in front of him (Jack didn’t understand how Mac had even managed to get down MREs back in their Army days, having been used to Bozer’s cooking – he supposed it was probably due to the hunger of youth, or the fact that when his brain was busy, Mac didn’t pay much attention to things like eating).

Halfway through his eggs, Jack looked up at Mac’s BFF with a sigh.

‘Boze, what do we do?’ He waved his left hand (the one that wasn’t holding his spoon) around. ‘It don’t feel right to let our boy keep going on, blind to what’s right in front of him, but on the other hand, he’s like a skittish horse; one wrong move and he’s gonna bolt…’

(According to Cage – who was _Cage_ , so, of course, she was going to be right about this – Beth and Alex wouldn’t get past three – or, on an outside chance, four - dates before calling it quits, so there were no concerns that Mac would find himself heartbroken before he realized he even had feelings for her.)

Bozer shrugged helplessly.

‘I don’t know, Jack. I don’t know.’

Jack sighed again, taking another bite of his breakfast, chewing and swallowing, silent for a moment before speaking, his tone very exasperated and also very fond.

‘Seriously, the perfect woman for him, and I mean perfect, it’s actually kinda _scary_ how perfect; if I didn’t know better, I’d say that since our boy’s a little lonely, he went and Frankensteined her into existence…’

Bozer nodded in agreement, then dropped his spoon with a clatter as an idea, inspiration, hit him.

‘I should totally turn that into a movie!’ He muttered to himself for a moment about the plot (a lonely genius…an idea that was kinda bad and kinda good…so much drama…a touch of existentialism…), then shook his head, and looked back at Jack, who was shooting him a _look_. ‘Sorry…focusing on the problem.’

‘ _As I was saying_ …falls into his life, somehow, and of course, he starts fallin’ for her, ‘cause practically perfect and all, but he’s pretty much drowning in denial!’ He paused and pointed at Bozer. ‘Denial. The Nile. You get it, right?’

Bozer, expression very unimpressed at the pun, nodded dryly, before his expression changed to something that mirrored Jack’s extreme fond exasperation.

The two of them shared a look of commiseration for a moment, before a sort of realization dawned on Bozer’s face.

‘Jack…what if she _didn’t_ come into his life by accident?’ He leaned forward. ‘What if Mac’s got a Fairy Godmother…named Samantha Cage?’

After all, Mac had met Beth because he’d gotten it into his head to improve hospital equipment, which had _just-so-happened_ to happen after Cage had taken up watching _Code Black_ and insisted on putting it on at Mac’s before one of their ‘family’ dinners, and the women had met Beth and her parents during one of their girls’ nights out not long before that…

And while all the women had, in hindsight, been looking very _knowing_ for months, Cage had been particularly so…which wasn’t _unusual_ , but still…

Jack blinked twice, then shook his head with a chuckle.

‘Well-played, Cage. Well-played.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now do you see why I put Denial Is Not Just a River in Egypt as a tag on Ao3? ;) Yes, I will shamelessly continue to use many versions of that phrase in this story! Author’s prerogative. And yeah, in hindsight, Cage probably should be considered the Fairy Godmother in this story…
> 
> Alex is, of course, Alex ‘Flyboy’ Lucas, from my _Every End is a Beginning_ AU, who is, of course, a giant meta-joke.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There might have been an issue with the upload of the last chapter on Fanfiction, if you’re reading from there, maybe just double-check to make sure you’ve read the last chapter?

**MACGYVER’S PENTHOUSE**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

At 5:45 PM on a Wednesday night, as dinner was prepared by Mac, Cage and Patricia (it was only fair to give Bozer the night off, since he always cooked on Fridays) before Poker Night (they hadn’t had one for a while, and Jack was sure that _this time_ , he’d manage to bluff Cage – he’d been practicing in the mirror), the broadcast of _Iron Chef_ re-runs on the TV that Bozer was watching with Jack and Riley as Diane and Matty chatted was interrupted and replaced with a local news anchor.

‘…breaking news. An Amtrak train has crashed and derailed at Union Station, leaving at least five people dead and hundreds injured, many critically. We now cross live to Timothy Sanders, who is at the scene…’

Mac, who’d been stirring a pot on the stove containing chilli, immediately turned off the stove and put down the spoon, not caring or really noticing that it slid into the chilli.

‘Riley, bring up the locations and phone numbers of all the Subway franchises in downtown.’ The hacker nodded, guessing which way Mac’s thoughts were going, and grabbed the rig that was never far from her grasp from the bag at her feet, and started typing. Mac walked over, pulling out his phone and thinking out-loud as he did so. ‘They’ll have taken all the casualties to CHMC-LA, it’s the only ER and trauma centre in downtown…’ He bent down, leaning on the back of the couch to read Riley’s laptop screen, and typed a number into his phone, then looked around at all of them. ‘Call all the Subways in downtown and put in the largest catering order they can do at short notice. Get them to deliver it to the nearest police precinct or firehouse.’ He took out his wallet and pulled out his limitless credit card, tossing it onto the coffee table. ‘Charge it to that.’

They all nodded, by now used to Mac and his definitely eccentric but very generous ways, as the blonde himself dialled the number he’d put into his phone and placed the same order for delivery to the staff breakrooms at CHMC-LA.

* * *

A couple of minutes and a very shocked Subway franchisee later, Mac hung up, pocketed his phone, and made for the door, grabbing his favourite brown leather jacket from the fork-based DIY coat hooks along the way.

Jack, who’d just finished placing a similar Subway order to another similarly-shocked Subway employee, pocketed his own phone, and turned to his boss/primary charge/surrogate son.

‘Brother, where are you going?’

Mac didn’t pause in shrugging on his jacket and grabbing his keys and a couple of paperclips from the little table in the entryway.

‘To donate blood!’

With that, he opened the door and left his apartment, Jack immediately hurrying off after him with an exasperated, affectionate head-shake.

He did, however, pause in the doorway and glance around at Bozer, Riley, Patricia, Matty, Cage and Diane.

‘Weirdest grand romantic gesture ever, am I right?’ Then, he ran down the corridor after Mac. ‘Wait up, brother!’

Bozer and Riley exchanged a glance.

‘Like, $12,000 of Subway sandwiches and cookies?’

‘And a pint of AB negative?’

Matty snorted in a way that they all knew was affectionate.

‘Baby Einstein _never_ does anything the normal way.’

Cage had a little smile on her face, as she hung up her call to a Subway franchise.

‘You all know he’d do this even if he wasn’t subconsciously trying to impress Beth.’

They all nodded, and Patricia gave a wry little smile and spoke after glancing at Diane, who had a similar, but larger, smile on her face.

‘But you can’t say that his subconscious hasn’t got an ulterior motive in mind.’ The smile widened and softened a little. ‘Or, as much of an ulterior motive as Mac ever has.’

‘No, no I can’t.’

* * *

**APRIL 2019**

**MACGYVER’S WORKSHOP**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

On a Friday afternoon, Mac and Beth stared at their prototype and then, slowly, grinned and laughed as the very last of the long list of tests that they and her dad and several other engineers from Biomedical had come up with for the hospital-in-a-box concluded. It was a rousing success.

Without thinking, Mac reached out and pulled her into a hug, almost lifting her clean off her feet, which she enthusiastically returned.

When they let go, both of them a little flushed from sheer happiness and laughter, he gestured between the hospital-in-a-box and her.

‘We should be able to get it into production in about six weeks; I think we can get the first batch of units out to MSF within three months.’ Beth’s grin widened, and he continued. ‘We’ll present it at the Phoenix Foundation Fundraiser Gala Ball in three weeks…’ He looked a bit sheepish and wry. ‘We should probably plan a presentation; Matty and Thornton tend to get annoyed when I just make those up on the fly.’ He seemed to realize something and glanced over at her. ‘Will you be able to get that Friday afternoon and evening off?’

‘Well…yes, I could get time off to help you run through the presentation last-minute, but I can’t go to the Gala!’

His brow furrowed, confused for a moment.

‘Why not?’

As soon as he said that, he realized why and kicked himself internally as Beth spoke, fidgeting a little and, in general, looking and sounding awkward, cheeks a bit pink.

‘Mac, tickets are $10,000 a head. I…I can’t afford it, and I mean, I suppose you could just give me one, but then the Foundation would lose $10,000 and…’

Again completely on impulse, Mac reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

‘I’ll buy you a ticket.’ He shrugged, continuing as she opened her mouth to protest. ‘I’m buying Bozer, Riley and Diane tickets, and I’ve put in another $50,000 for myself, Jack, Thornton, Matty and Cage.’ They all had to be there for official reasons, but Mac saw no reason to take $50,000 from the Phoenix in ticket sales so that they could be there, so made up the difference. ‘I do it every year, and…’ He gestured to their hospital-in-a-box. ‘…this is _our_ brainchild. You should be there…and I’d really like you to be.’

After a moment of considering, still a little flushed, she nodded and smiled up at him.

‘Thanks, Mac.’ Then, she started muttering to herself, thinking out-loud, as a series of realizations hit her. ‘I’ll need to buy an evening dress, one suitable for one of the _social events of the season_ …I don’t even know what _kind_ of dress to buy for something like this…and I’ll have to buy shoes too-‘

He cut off her slowly-growing-panicky babbling with a reassuring smile with a hint of a smirk.

‘I have a solution to that too.’ He paused and tilted his head a little to the right. ‘Well, not exactly _me,_ but I have an idea…’

* * *

**CAGE’S CAR**

**ON-ROUTE TO LA FASHION DISTRICT**

**LA**

* * *

The following Sunday morning, Beth sat in the front seat of Cage’s car as she and Riley took her on a shopping trip for an outfit for the Ball.

(They’d already organized theirs, but had volunteered – presumably on Mac’s behest – to help her out, having more experience, and – in Beth’s mind – being far more fashionable than she was.)

‘…I’ve budgeted $1500 for a dress, shoes, hair and makeup for the Ball; I suppose that means I’ll be underdressed, but, well…’

Beth trailed off a little awkwardly. ER doctors made good money, but medical school was expensive, and she’d forsaken a year of income to boot when she’d worked with MSF, and her student loans _did_ have to be paid, and it was irresponsible to blow a large sum of money on the Gala when she had more important things she had to spend it on, like said student loans.

As Cage made a left turn, Riley pulled a debit card out of her wallet and leaned forward to talk to Beth.

‘You could _definitely_ pull off a $1500 outfit; you just need to own it.’ Cage nodded resolutely. ‘Look, no matter what you wear, there’ll be someone being critical…’ Both Cage and Riley rolled their eyes. ‘…the only thing you can do is ignore them, because _you_ know you looked drop-dead gorgeous.’ Cage nodded again in very firm agreement. ‘But, if you decide you look awesome in a more expensive dress or heels…you don’t really have a budget.’ She waggled the card. ‘Mac put $15 K on this, and he said, I quote, _if you need more, just text me_.’

Beth’s eyes went very wide and she looked a little horrified and nauseated at the idea of spending that much on a single, admittedly fancy, outfit.

Cage glanced over at her, a reassuring little smile on her face.

‘He doesn’t expect you to show up in something that expensive, we don’t have to go for something high-end designer.’ Her smile widened and grew more wry. ‘Mac’s just very generous, especially to his loved ones…’ Cage expertly hid her reaction to Beth’s reaction to that. ‘…and he doesn’t know much about women’s clothing.’ She paused, smile growing very wry. ‘Or fashion in general.’

Riley also grinned wryly.

‘But he _does_ know a surprisingly large amount about women’s shoes.’

Cage snorted.

‘Because he spent three days conducting experiments to see if you could stab someone with a stiletto heel.’

A very curious, eager look appeared on Beth’s face.

‘I _have_ to ask him about that! I wonder what he found was the most important factor for determining depth of penetration? Angle? Heel thickness? Velocity?’

* * *

**THORNTON’S RESIDENCE**

**(SHE HAS THE BIGGEST PLACE OF ALL THE WOMEN)**

**(HEY, SHE _IS_ THE CEO OF JI)**

**LA**

* * *

Riley swapped her usual black earrings for shiny gold ones, double-checking her jewellery and her eyeliner in the mirror (one of several that they’d set up around Patricia’s living room), then straightening up and sitting down in an armchair to put on her gold high heels, which went perfectly with her very stylish, rich jewel-tone purple dress (a bespoke Wilt Bozer original).

All of the women (that being Riley, Diane, Cage, Patricia, Matty and Beth) had gathered at Patricia’s apartment to get ready for the Gala Ball, partly for the experience, and partly so that they could help each other out with hair and makeup.

(Riley had briefly debated inviting Bozer along – he was really good with hair and makeup, and he’d be a great help if anyone needed a last-minute dress alteration or repair - but had decided against it.)

(Bozer’s styling skills would be put to far better use on Mac and Jack, who, in her opinion, needed it far more than any of them, and besides, she kind of wanted to knock his socks off; he might have made her dress, but he hadn’t gotten the ‘full effect’ and she didn’t want to spoil the surprise.)

Speaking of knocking socks off…

Beth was sitting on a stool in front of another one of the mirrors, braiding her hair into an elaborate coronet on her head, in a simple navy-blue Grecian-style dress with bronze detailing around the waist, outfit completed with matching makeup and bronze heels, necklace and hairclip ( _all_ paid for by Mac, which had, of course, elicited a few protests from her, but she’d relented, after Riley and Cage had pointed out that firstly, Mac owed her at least a little for all the work she’d done on the hospital-in-a-box and secondly, it was the equivalent of him buying her a chocolate bar or a cup of coffee, since the $1750 she’d spent was pocket change to him, and finally, he’d done the same for Riley and her mom before – which had elicited far stronger protests from Riley at the time).

Riley glanced at Cage, a little smirk on her face, and the blonde woman, in a shimmery, slinky metallic dress somewhere between gold and bronze, applied some bright-red lipstick to her lips, then smirked right back, very knowingly.

Their little smirks did not go unnoticed by Matty (who was wearing a black dress with silver beading and was talking to the limo driver on her phone), or Patricia (who was pinning her hair into an elegant chignon, which matched her equally-elegant jumpsuit – she was wearing her burgundy one this year, having worn the fuchsia one the year before, the black one the year before that, and the white one the year before that), or Diane, who was slipping on the gold bracelets that went perfectly with her classic emerald-green dress.

They had not, in any way, shape or form, steered Beth towards that particular dress with a certain someone in mind.

(Of course, as any good girlfriends should, they’d offered their opinions and their suggestions, but they’d done it with _her_ in mind, what _she_ would like, not Mac.)

(But she’d coincidentally picked a dress in Mac’s favourite colour.)

(Riley supposed that coincidences were statistically inevitable, though she also wondered if there was something more in the colour choice. An expression of something subconscious.)

(Cage, meanwhile, would put her next pay-check on that.)

* * *

**PHOENIX FOUNDATION FUNDRAISER GALA BALL**

**LA**

* * *

He was staring.

Mac knew that.

He also knew that it was rude and a bit creepy, but he was finding it very, very, very hard to stop staring at the woman who was currently fifteen feet away, talking enthusiastically and with clear, obvious expertise to a Congressman who was on a committee regarding military funding about their hospital-in-a-box, with Thornton beside her, chipping in smoothly and seamlessly regarding some of the details of the business side of things.

(Their presentation had gone excellently, of course.)

He was _supposed_ to be discussing something similar with a Silicon Valley tycoon who was keen to build a hospital in Congo, but he admitted that he wasn’t paying very much attention to the conversation.

Because he was far too busy staring at Beth.

He’d always known that she was a very beautiful woman, but it was a shock to the system (in a really good way) to see her all dressed up, in heels and an extremely flattering dress (which happened to be his favourite colour, even), with her hair braided into an intricate crown of sorts (which his fingers itched to disassemble).

He told himself that it was only because it was A, such a shock, since he was so used to her in jeans and T-shirts and closed-toe shoes, with her hair pulled back into a practical braid or a ponytail, and B, he was a young, healthy, straight and, well, very much _not dead_ man, and she was a very beautiful young woman who was also brilliant, and kind and sweet and fierce all at once...

Just like he told himself that his inexplicably strong urge to disassemble her hairstyle was just because of its intricacy, because he wanted to figure out how it was constructed.

(Not also because he wanted to have his hands in her hair. Not at all.)

And of course, he told himself all that so well that he didn’t realize he was doing it at all.

Mac finally pulled his full attention (and his gaze) back to the app-developing tycoon in front of him, as Cage tapped him on the shoulder.

* * *

Jack sighed, an exasperated, fond, sound (more exasperated now than fond, far more, which was unsurprising) and leaned closer to Diane as they danced, whispering in her ear, keeping his voice very low.

(He, Diane, Bozer, Riley, Cage, Patricia and Matty had put a lot of effort into running interference tonight so that the tabloids and the gossip websites and TV shows didn’t start running pieces about how a supposedly ‘plain-Jane’ doctor – scrubs and no makeup and a harsh, practical ponytail after a long, tiring shift were not very flattering, especially when played up for the _drama_ and shock value – had stolen the heart of 2017’s Bachelor of the Year after a Cinderella-esque transformation, and he did not want to be the one to ruin that by speaking too loudly.)

‘Only Mac could have eyes for only one woman, despite all the competition…’ There was definitely competition; even if Angus MacGyver was no longer the reigning Bachelor of the Year, he was definitely still considered a catch, even if Jack (possibly unfairly, but could he really be blamed?) thought that a fair few of that ‘competition’ probably didn’t realize that _Mac_ was an even better catch, by a country mile or two. ‘…and still be completely blind!’

(Jack knew _why_ , of course. Mac’s painful romantic history, plus his immense skill at compartmentalizing, very stubborn nature, slight natural obliviousness, extreme determination and the fact that he was excellent at exemplifying the concept of ‘mind over matter’, had led to him now scuba-diving past the Sphinx.)

Diane, too, gave a fond, exasperated little smile, running a soothing hand along Jack’s back.

She knew very well that he wanted to lock Mac and Beth together in a closet or Mac’s bedroom or something like that, or cuff them together (which would all be useless, since Mac would manage to get them out within minutes), or even (figuratively) club Mac on the head and tell him point blank that he was clearly half in love with her and to do something about it _stat._

But he wasn’t, because he knew that this was something that Mac had to work out on his own.

Honestly, Jack was showing admirable restraint.

* * *

‘I’m really thinking that I should just make him lose another bet so he has to ask her out.’ Bozer bit into the blueberry tart, essentially a mini blueberry pie (Mac had insisted upon little tarts that were essentially mini-pies being served, taking an interest in the catering for the Gala for the first time ever – another sign, in Bozer’s mind, that he really should do everything in his power to get his BFF to ask Beth out already, so that they could get started on the love, then marriage, then baby-in-a-baby-carriage bit – he knew he’d be an awesome uncle!), and turned to his girlfriend, who was eating a cherry tart, gesturing subtly (or as subtly as he ever did anything) to his aforementioned BFF and the woman that Bozer would totally put a hundred bucks on being the next Mrs MacGyver, who were dancing (not very well, though neither of them seemed to care). ‘I mean, it’s not gonna go the way of the Darlene Martin Incident, so…’

Riley crossed her arms and leaned closer, a teasing smirk on her face, but with that same exasperation that he had in her eyes.

‘Haven’t you not managed to make Mac lose a bet ever since?’

‘Well, no, but with the help of my brilliant, gorgeous girlfriend’s genius brain, I’m sure I can pull it off…’

Riley rolled her eyes and muttered something about him being a silver-tongued flatterer, but there was something very soft and fond and loving in her eyes anyway.

Bozer’s smirk widened.

* * *

‘Don’t do it.’ Jack and Bozer, who were standing in the corner, sipping champagne, both started a little, Jack almost-jumping, Bozer actually jumping, at the familiar voice, and looked down between them at the equally-familiar woman in a black dress. Matty stole Jack’s champagne glass right out of his hand and downed it, ignoring his protests. ‘You two are thinking of getting Blondie to finally admit to himself that he’s falling in love with Doc.’ Bozer and Jack looked very much like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar, which confirmed Matty’s suspicions. ‘But now is _not_ the time.’

Jack and Bozer startled again as another voice joined in from behind them.

‘Timing is everything.’ They turned to find Patricia, with a wry little smile on her face, a touch of that same exasperated fondness ( _very_ exasperated fondness) in her eyes. ‘And he needs to work this out on his own.’ Her smile grew more wry, gesturing with an elegant little motion of her head to where Mac and Beth were talking about the Phoenix Foundation’s donations to MSF with the Governor of California (well, at that moment, Beth was talking, Mac was staring and Cage was running interference). ‘As painful as it is to watch.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Cinderella re-telling – there does have to be a Ball at some point! Did you like it? What’d you think of Mac’s bizarre ‘grand romantic gesture’? Oh – and random thought: Mac’s blood type is AB negative and Jack’s is O negative, according to 2.07, Duct Tape + Jack. Jack had to be O negative for the sake of the plot, but why is Mac AB negative? Was it just the first thing that came into the writer’s head? Is Lucas Till AB negative and they just used that? Or, heck, was it some kind of very subtle thing about how Mac and Jack might not share blood, and Jack is not actually his father, but they have their very special relationship nonetheless? (I don’t know, my brain is weird – if Mac is AB negative and Jack is O negative, Jack can’t be his biological father barring Jack being a chimera or having some kind of very large-scale – and probably very, very, very unlikely - spontaneous mutation in his germline cells, or Mac having three copies of the A/B/O RBC antigen gene, with one A allele, one B allele and one O allele…at least, that’s to the best of my memory of 2nd year uni genetics…)


	7. Chapter 7

**MACGYVER’S WORKSHOP**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

‘You, Angus MacGyver, are _ridiculous_ , and I _cannot_ wait for the day that Bozer makes his tell-all memoir-movie about the two of you!’

The Tuesday afternoon after the Gala (they’d decided that there was no reason for them to stop collaborating, not when they’d had so much success and enjoyed working together and each other’s company so much, and when there were so many other ideas in Mac’s brain for projects to help people that would only benefit from her assistance and expertise and intelligence, plus he had a few just-for-fun project ideas that he knew she’d love…), Mac looked down at the woman who was jabbing at his chest with her pointer finger, looking up at him and grinning, still pink-cheeked from laughter and teasing him with affection in her eyes, and had a very sudden and very sharp, strong urge to tuck two fingers under her chin or cup her face in his hands and _kiss_ her.

_Oh, no._

* * *

**JACK’S RESIDENCE**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

That same Tuesday, Jack was eating his dinner (a chickpea curry with rice and lentil soup – excellent grub, and not just excellent-for-vegetarian), minding his own business in his own apartment when his landlord/boss/primary/dear friend/surrogate son barrelled into his home in a _state._

(Mac was frantic and slightly wild-eyed. His hair was mussed, as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly, and he immediately started pacing circles around Jack’s living room, frantically unwinding a paperclip.)

‘I really, really like her. I really, really like her, Jack!’ He stopped in front of the older man (who’d dropped his spoon to disguise the _finally_ he’d muttered a little too loudly – not that Mac had noticed – when the blonde had first spoken). ‘This was not supposed to happen!’

He started pacing frantic circles again.

Jack, meanwhile, took a moment to just take in what he was seeing.

Angus MacGyver, who’d disarmed bombs that should have blown him (and Jack) to smithereens with steady calm and nerves of steel and even cheesy-sounding words of reassurance that were completely genuinely felt and a witty quip or two, was actually _panicking_ as much as (or maybe even more than) Jack had ever seen him panic.

Jack would be laughing if Mac wasn’t doing the aforementioned panicking, and if he didn’t know how important, how big, how serious, this was.

Then, he spoke, voice gentle.

‘It’s called _falling_ in love, son, not walking.’

Mac stopped in his tracks again, and stared at Jack for a _long, long_ moment, processing, before that panic faded from his eyes and he gave a little half-nod, then plonked himself down on a chair and ran a hand through his hair, dropping the re-shaped paperclip he’d been toying with on the table.

(It was in the shape of a heart, which Jack filed away for later, but chose not to point out to the younger man just then.)

‘After…after everything…I wasn’t looking. I wasn’t trying.’ He bit his lip, voice confessional and quiet. ‘I wasn’t going to, ever again.’ Mac shook his head, then glanced at Jack with a helpless little shrug and a very affectionate, practically besotted smile on his face. ‘It just happened. _She_ just happened.’

(At some point, they’d have to tell Mac – and Beth – how Cage had so cleverly arranged for them to meet. Jack would vote for the wedding – he knew he was jumping really far ahead, but he just had a gut feeling, and you had to trust the gut – it’d make a great anecdote for his and Bozer’s Best Men speech.)

Mac sighed.

_After everything, I really didn’t think I could fall in love again._

_I thought it was impossible._

_Professor V would not be happy with me. Impossible is not a scientific term, after all._

_And I think I’m currently in the process of being proven wrong, empirically._

Jack, his expression soft and gentle, pushed aside his bowl and plate and leaned forward, closer to Mac.

‘A good woman, the right woman, tends to do that.’ He paused, as Mac gave a little nod, very much an _I know that now_ nod. ‘What’re you gonna do about it, son?’ He pointed at Mac, half-joking, half-serious. ‘ _Please_ don’t ask if she really likes you back, brother…’

Mac, a very wry little smile on his face, shook his head.

(In hindsight, it was clear that his feelings were requited. It was very clear that there was a connection, a special, meaningful connection, developing between them.)

(Denial was a _very_ powerful thing. He now had a _lot_ of empirical evidence for that.)

_What am I going to do?_

He knew that Beth wouldn’t hurt him, not like he’d been hurt before. He supposed that he’d thought that of Allie, and of Nikki…but that was a train of thought that he had to cut off there. By that logic, he should be wary of even Jack and Bozer, which was complete and utter nonsense.

He also knew that she would never, ever make the first move. She knew his romantic history, and she was _her_ (kind and sweet and considerate, maybe a little _too_ much, in this case, and a little shy and awkward - she’d grown up a child prodigy and won nine science fairs before she’d turned sixteen and graduated high school which brought with it negatives to go with the positives, as he knew very well). And then there was the fact that he was the 18th wealthiest man in the country, and he knew that she would not want there to be any possibility that he (or those closest to him) would think that she wanted him for any reason other than the fact that he was _him_ (not that any of them would, he was sure).

He rubbed the back of his neck, a wry, sheepish smile on his face.

‘Taking it slow is out of the question, isn’t it?’

Jack shot him a _you think?_ look.

‘Whaddya think you’ve been doing, son? You been going so slow, you were almost going in reverse!’ His expression grew very serious, and he reached out and put a hand on Mac’s arm. ‘Don’t…don’t let her be your Sarah.’ Jack paused. ‘Well, that ain’t a perfect analogy; don’t get me wrong, she ain’t my biggest regret, not now…’ For a while, it had seemed like it. ‘…’cause I love Diane with every fibre of my being, and she’s my right one now, but…’ He fixed Mac with a very serious, almost stern look. ‘Don’t wait around thinking she’ll be there forever, son, ‘cause she won’t.’

Mac looked into Jack’s eyes and nodded very seriously.

‘I know.’ He nodded again, and a smile appeared on his face. ‘And I know what I’m going to do.’ He patted Jack’s arm. ‘Thanks, Jack.’

Jack smiled back at him.

‘Anytime, son. Anytime.’ He got up and gestured with his thumb towards the fridge. ‘Now, do you want some chickpea curry? For some reason, Beth seems to like your scrawny butt, but we can’t let you get any scrawnier…’

* * *

**MACGYVER’S WORKSHOP**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

The very next time Beth walked into his workshop, as soon as she’d stepped through the doors, Mac, who was standing by the workbench closest to the door, took a deep breath and screwed his courage to the sticking place.

‘Hi, Beth.’ He sought out her eyes, trying to make it very clear what he was asking. ‘Would you like to have dinner with me?’

After a moment of staring at him, her cheeks pinking, a delighted smile spread across her face and she nodded.

‘I’d love to.’

* * *

**MACGYVER’S PENTHOUSE**

**JACKSON TOWER**

**LA**

* * *

On Saturday morning (the day of Mac and Beth’s date), Jack and Bozer sat on the couch in Mac’s apartment as the blonde sat in the armchair, the three of them _supposedly_ watching a recorded basketball game.

(The ladies – minus Beth, who had work from late morning to late afternoon - had gone off for one of their girls’ days after breakfast.)

(The reason why they weren’t _actually_ watching it had nothing to do with the game – it was Cavs vs. Warriors, and they all did enjoy watching a good game of basketball, though in Mac’s opinion, playing it was better – and far more to do with the fact that Bozer and Jack were enjoying the conversation they’d started way, way too much.)

‘So, where’re you taking her, brother? Flying her to Paris for a long weekend on your jet?’

‘Or to NYC?’

‘Nah, New Orleans, Boze. The Big Easy!’

‘How about Montauk?’ Bozer waggled his eyebrows. ‘Quiet and peaceful and romantic, perfect for some _private_ time…’

Mac rolled his eyes.

‘If you want to borrow the jet to take Diane or Riley somewhere, be my guest. You can use it whenever Matty or Thornton aren’t using it for JI business.’ He paused. ‘And Beth is terrified of flying. She also only has Sunday off; she’s back to work at 7 am on Monday.’ Mac gave a wry, yet very affectionate, smile. ‘If I take her somewhere by _plane_ that _also_ causes her to have to miss work without notice, trust me, I won’t get a second date.’

_I’d probably also be subjected to a tox screen, a concussion test and screening for infection by infectious prions._

Jack and Bozer exchanged a glance, the two of them smirking, then the older man pointed at Mac.

‘You could get back on her good side, brother. We got faith in you.’

‘Yeah, just build and name a hospital in her honour in Yemen, bro.’

Mac sighed and shook his head in response to their teasing, making a face.

‘ _Way_ too ostentatious, guys.’ His brow furrowed. ‘Though…we’re already funding MSF operations in Yemen, but we probably should talk to them about building hospitals, now that the political situation seems to be stabilizing…’ Mac shook his head a little, filing that thought away for later and getting back on topic. ‘I am cooking Beth dinner.’ He pointed at his kitchen. ‘Right here.’ Bozer opened his mouth, but Mac held up a hand to stay him. ‘Thanks, Boze, but I’m going to do it all by myself.’

Bozer nodded, pointing at him.

‘Respect, bro.’ He turned to Jack. ‘Now _that’s_ romantic.’

Mac chipped in, voice wry and pointed.

‘And private, and not _too much_.’

(They couldn’t exactly go bowling or to an arcade or to a drive-in or a nice-but-not-fancy restaurant or even Mama Colton’s diner – Mac’s favourite; Mama treated him like all her other regulars, made great pie and had been known to threaten overzealous paparazzi with the knife she used to cut it – without it being all over the internet the next day.)

(At some point – and he was not jumping ahead of himself; they both knew - as did everyone else – that this was definitely something long-term, that they might just be each other’s right ones, and that this ‘first date’ wasn’t really a first date in the sense of getting-to-know-you, but the start of a long-term relationship – they’d have to brave the media, but now wasn’t the time.)

Jack nodded, then pointed sternly at Mac.

‘You better not be making her steak, brother, since you’ll butcher it-‘

Mac rolled his eyes again.

‘A, Beth also likes her steak medium-rare.’ They had had some weird conversations, but how they liked their steak and Mac’s steak-cooking algorithm honestly didn’t really rate when it came to weirdness. Mac flung his hands in the air exasperatedly as Jack made a face. ‘And B, I overcooked your steak once, Jack. _Once._ Because I neglected to ask you how you like your steak, which I have apologized for eight times! _Let it go._ ’

Jack crossed his arms huffily.

‘Never, brother. Never. I can’t forgive or forget such a sin against a good ol’ slab of meat, man. You practically nuked it! What’d it ever do to you?’

‘Just because you like your steak horrifyingly blue-‘

Bozer cut in at that point, in an attempt to head off Mac and Jack’s bickering (which was amusing, but on the other hand, he’d heard this argument at least ten times), and leaned close to Jack and stage-whispered.

‘They even both like their steak medium-rare. Match made in heaven, right, man?’

* * *

At 6:57 PM, Mac double-checked that all the preparations had been made. The salad was on the counter, dressing beside it, the salmon fillets had been seasoned and were by the stove, ready to be pan-fried, and the potatoes were roasting in the oven. He had a pumpkin pie in the fridge (prepared according to Bozer’s recipe, which had been modified last November, combining the best elements of both Beth and Bozer’s pumpkin pie recipes), next to a little bowl of freshly-whipped cream. There was also a bottle of wine chilling, his hair was not a mess, there were no stains on either him or his brown chinos and light-blue button-down that apparently brought out his eyes (that was what Bozer and Riley had told the _Cosmopolitan_ stylist during the Bachelor of the Year photoshoot anyway, and the stylist _had_ agreed).

_Just because I’m an on-the-fly guy doesn’t mean that I’m not capable of some degree of forward planning, and it also doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate it._

_This is not the sort of situation when you want to improvise the whole thing._

_And maybe Beth and her to-do lists, fully-utilized planner, well-stocked handbag and other ‘be prepared’ habits are rubbing off on me a bit._

_Seriously, apart from the one obvious thing, she’d have been a much better Boy Scout than me._

* * *

At 6:59 PM, there was a knock on the door, and Mac immediately hurried over and opened it, to reveal Beth standing on the other side, hair loose, in a very pretty blue-and-white floral sundress and a grey cardigan, smiling widely.

‘Hi, Mac.’

He grinned, probably like an idiot, but he couldn’t care less.

‘Hi, Beth.’

* * *

A forkful of pumpkin pie and whipped cream almost to her mouth, Beth, sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, burst into giggles as Mac, standing up and leaning on the edge of the counter next to his own slice of pie, gave a little smirk as he finished relating the story of the time Jack had gotten himself in trouble by sitting on an original Louis XV at a function being hosted by a very wealthy Belgian art collector.

When she stopped laughing, having put down her forkful of pumpkin pie, there was a little smudge of whipped cream on her chin, and impulsively, Mac reached out and wiped the cream away with his thumb, wiping his thumb in turn on a napkin, not breaking eye contact the whole time.

_Yeah, this is definitely one of those romance novel moments…_

_Or, at least, the start of one._

_And yes, of course I intend on following through._

_I’m not that crazy._

Slowly, he tucked two fingers under her chin to tilt her face up, then ducked his head to kiss her.

* * *

When they broke apart, Beth blinked up at him, cheeks a little pink and looking much like he felt, like the Earth had shifted a couple of feet underneath them.

‘You really _are_ good at almost everything.’ Her eyes widened and the flush on her cheeks darkened. ‘I said that out-loud, didn’t I?’

A rush of smugness and affection and amusement shot through him and he chuckled and nodded with a grin.

‘Yup.’ He paused and leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. ‘I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.’

* * *

The next morning, at the respectable hour of 8:30 am, Jack and Bozer stood outside Mac’s door, their ears pressed to it, while their respective girlfriends stood a little further away, partway down the corridor, their arms crossed and with identical expressions of _sometimes, I wonder why I love this idiot_ on their faces.

A moment later, the door opened, revealing Mac, dressed for the day, hair damp and holding a spatula, rolling his eyes.

‘Oh, just come in.’ Jack and Bozer immediately stepped inside and started looking for signs that Mac had company, which made the blonde roll his eyes again as he returned to the kitchen to flip the pancakes on the griddle (he’d decided against using his pancake-making toaster; it wasn’t as efficient as the griddle when cooking for a crowd). ‘We have another date on Tuesday.’ He gestured to the still-searching and still-trying-and-failing-to-be-subtle Bozer and Jack, sharing an exasperated glance with Riley and Diane (whom, he noted, were also curious, just more tactful than either of their boyfriends), and decided to answer the unspoken but very obvious question that was being asked, in order to head Jack and Bozer off at the pass. ‘And she went home last night. Before midnight.’

Jack stopped in his seemingly-casual attempt to see into Mac’s bedroom, turned and pointed at the blonde, as he plated up a stack of pancakes.

‘Hey, brother, I’ve seen you do some of your best work under time pressure-‘ He shut up as Riley punched him in the arm, none too gently, making a face that clearly said _eww, I don’t want to think about that._ After a moment’s pause, during which his own face screwed up a little in agreement with Riley, Jack continued. ‘Did you at least kiss her?’

Mac shook his head, pointing at Jack with his spatula.

‘That’s for me to know and you to never find out.’

As Mac turned away to ladle more pancake batter onto the grill, Bozer leaned over and stage-whispered to Jack, smirking and waggling his eyebrows.

‘That means he totally did.’

Jack smirked and nodded in agreement, restraining himself from saying something along the lines of _oh yeah, brother!_ at a raised eyebrow from Diane, who had a knowing little smirk on her face much like the one on her daughter’s face.

His back to the four in his living room, Mac shook his head with a little smile.

_They’re not wrong._

_But a gentleman never kisses and tells._

There was another knock on the door, and a moment later, Cage, Matty and even Patricia entered, and Mac shook his head again, smile widening.

_Right on cue._

He grabbed the second bowl of pancake batter.

* * *

**OCTOBER 2019**

**ANOTHER CHARITY GALA BALL**

**LA**

* * *

Mac, dressed in his tux and with all the grease under his nails freshly-removed, got out of the limo with a smile, then helped Beth, who was wearing a pale pink dress this time (unfortunately, when you were the girlfriend of a billionaire, you couldn’t exactly repeat outfits for occasions like this – at least not without garnering a _lot_ of press attention), out.

She looked a little nervous, eyes wide, as Jack, Thornton and Matty followed her out of the car, glancing around at all the _people_ and the paparazzi, but Mac squeezed her hand reassuringly and leaned down to whisper something in her ear that made her giggle and relax noticeably. Then, they made their way up the red carpet, hand-in-hand.

* * *

Larissa Bellucci, entertainment and celebrity reporter, looked back at the camera and smiled sympathetically.

‘…Sorry ladies, but it looks like 2017’s _Cosmo_ Bachelor of the Year, Angus MacGyver, is firmly off the market!’

* * *

_I am very, very glad to now be ineligible for Bachelor of the Year contests._

_And not really because of uncomfortable, brain-bleach-worthy photoshoots._

_No, I’m very, very glad that I can no longer be described as a bachelor in the slightest._

_And I’ve got a feeling that I won’t ever be again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody catch my (rather subtle) meta joke in the scene when Mac asks Beth out (FINALLY)? Virtual cookies to anyone who does! Are you guys satisfied with that ending? 
> 
> This story was a relatively tricky one for me to write for some reason; I’d wanted to write it for quite a while, but it took three tries to get to this (the original attempt involved excessive alcohol consumption by Jack, Bozer and Riley, leading to the creation of a contest to win a date with Cosmo’s Bachelor of the Year, a disaster that Cage has to fix, while the second attempt had Riley as the Cinderella character, in which a former black hat turned diner waitress and a billionaire become friends, and she uncovers an industrial espionage plot that threatens his life, reconciles with the closest thing she’s ever had to a father, who happens to be the billionaire’s bodyguard, and begins something with the billionaire’s BFF…I would have loved to have written the second attempt, but it just wasn’t working out for me!). I am, however, very happy with this attempt, and I hope you are too! 
> 
> At the moment, I do have something else in the works – a retelling of _The Little Mermaid_. The working title is _Not a Single Word_. Here’s a very tentative summary:
> 
> “You ever gonna tell him, Ri?” “It doesn’t matter anymore.” Bozer, FBI forensic accountant, falls unbelievably hard and fast for his co-worker Leanna, whom he believes rescued him from a terrible situation. Riley, Mac and Jack, being great friends, are supportive…despite how fast they’re moving. “You’re getting married?!?” How many things is Bozer mistaken about?
> 
> I also have a couple of other ideas, such as a _MacGyver_ take on _The Frog Prince_ (mostly for Mac-is-literally-a-Golden-Retriever), and a version of Season 3 a la _Every End is a Beginning_ (which obviously has to wait until this season actually finishes for plot reasons, though I’ve got ideas for about six or seven eps), but being busy with uni drastically reduces the amount of time I have to write. However, until I finish up _Not a Single Word_ , keep an eye out for episode tags! If you liked this rom-com style story, I think you’ll probably also like _There’s Something About MacGyver, Just My Luck_ and _Today was a Fairytale_ , if you haven’t read those already! If you like Beth and her relationship with Mac, she appears at some point in almost all of my stories, save for the Season 2 episode tags.

**Author's Note:**

> How’d you like that? Did I do a decent job adapting everyone’s backstories into this AU? And yes, Mac is the Bachelor of the Year despite being somewhat befuddled as to the why…and yes, of course I ‘borrowed’ Jackson Industries/Tower/JI from the corresponding Stark Industries things!
> 
> The Bozer/Leanna bit is my own interpretation of their relationship – I honestly felt we didn’t get much of a basis for it (it might have just been a chemistry thing – for example, Mac and Zoe had less screen-time together, I think, and less actual time, but established a very believable and realistic connection within that), I mean, Bozer was infatuated with her because she was really attractive (and also hyper-competent, confident, sassy and almost didn’t even give him the time of day when they first met – seriously, Boze, you so have a type!), and then they had that very brief bonding experience while chasing/being chased by that guy who was spying on the spy school…and then it was sort-of _boom! We have feelings for each other!_ I do see why and how it happened (aforementioned stuff on Bozer’s part, bonding experience, plus the fact that Bozer – despite his sometimes-creepy-and-problematic-behaviour – is a genuinely really good guy and Leanna does get to see that and seems to truly value it), but I don’t feel it as ‘endgame’, particularly in canon, where I feel like it’s all going to blow up in their faces at some point…


End file.
